The Cyclopean Heresy
by Kel Silonius
Summary: We were so close. So close to the Emperor's vision of Mankind. Our species was free and close to achieving galactic rule. Then the Arch-Traitor destroyed it all. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**The Cyclopean Heresy**

Preamble to the _Chronicle of the Age of Darkness and the Great Purification,_ text written by multiple writers and compiled together in the aftermath of the Cyclopean Heresy. Final version dated to 800.M41.

WARNING: This is an account of the events of the Cyclopean Heresy. Look for the Inquisition mark upon the cover. If it's not there, assume this text is a corrupted version left as a trap by Chaotic servants and destroy it immediately.

WARNING: This text holds details into the corruption of the Primarchs and the Cyclopean Heresy. Only personnel with Omega-level and above clearance may access. Unauthorized access will result into extensive interrogation followed by execution of the culprit or forced recruitment into the Holy Ordos with immediate effect.

You have been warned.

 _"_ _If your battle plan is working, it's probably a trap"- Perturabo, Bane of the Fra'al, Primarch of the Fourth Legion, the Iron Warriors._

The Great Crusade was in its 202nd year. The last major xeno empire capable of matching the power of the Imperium, the Ork Empire of Ullanor, had been ground to dust under the boots of the then-Luna Wolves, the White Scars and the Dark Angels. A full-scale triumph had been held upon the formerly Ork World.

The galaxy seemed destined for Mankind's rightful dominion. The Emperor then chose to retreat to Terra, leaving the running of the Great Crusade in the hands of the Sixteenth Primarch, Horus Lupercal, who was named Warmaster of the Imperium of Man. The reasons behind this decisions are still debated by the Ordo Historia.

Perhaps, He believed that truly, there was no longer a threat to the Imperium strong enough to challenge its might from without, and desired to dedicate himself to the building of a civilian power structure within the Imperium, the Council of Terra.

But there was a threat. Hidden, unseen, but always watching. The Threat Beyond. And it had chosen to attack the Imperium not through the Threat Without, but through one we never anticipated. One we could not have possibly anticipated. The Threat Within.

The Ruinous Powers had decided to attack the Imperium. But not with hordes of corrupted, insane xenos or armies of screaming daemons, but with its own soldiers. The Adeptus Astartes.

The Imperium was to be thrown down through treachery and the hidden blade striking in the back.

And the one they chose to wield that blade, raise the banner of rebellion and shatter Mankind's manifest destiny…was exactly the one who was critical to the Emperor's plan to finally free Mankind from the malignant cancer that is Chaos through the Seshala (ancient Yndonesic Bloc term for "Highway") Project. The only one with enough might to be said to be in the Emperor's league when it came to psychic power. It is only because of historical duties that we, members of the Holy Inquisition, sully these pages with his foul name, written in sanctified ink itself to prevent the corruption of the text you are now reading.

Magnus the Red. Primarch of the Fifteenth Legion, The Thousand Sons.

At the time of the Great Crusade, he was known as the Crimson King. Leader of a Legion and a Dominion dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge. Of any kind of knowledge, it turned out. Even that which brings only damnation.

To us, and to all future generations of Mankind, he will be forever known as the Arch-Traitor. The Cyclopean King who shattered Humanity's destiny and promising future, forcing it into a dark present of endless war, ignorance and dictatorship in the name of survival.

The Imperium still stands due to the sacrifice of many heroes along the millennia, whose names are still sung in reverence on all worlds. But the Cyclops dealt Humanity a blow from which it may never recover. For he destroyed the ideals that held the Imperium together with the blade of betrayal, and paranoia and ignorance has replaced those ideals.

Worst of all, that paranoia, which we recognize as dangerous, even perhaps counterproductive and destructive…is more than justified.

For in the Age of Darkness, only the paranoid had a chance of survival, for there was always the risk that the ally of one day could turn upon you and become the enemy of the next day, and without … _contingencies_... in place, one would have died without even realizing it.

Trust became a luxury. But then again, if a Primarch who had always been in mental contact with the Emperor from the first day of his life could betray him, pull eight of his brothers down with him, along with their respective Legions, and then wound Him fatally with his cursed Warp-Blade, then…what possibility is there for the normal humans?

This is the tale of those times. Harden your soul as you read those that follow.

This is a tale of betrayal and bloodshed. It is a tale where brothers kill brothers and an empire which was built in hundreds of years is sundered and nearly destroyed in a single decade of madness and betrayal.

It is a tale where Legions once lauded and glorified ignominiously fall into the servitude of malicious entities that call themselves Gods, and others feared or ignored would rise and become the Shield and Sword of Humanity.

This is the tale of the greatest war Humanity has ever fought, and as always happens, it fought against its worst enemy…itself.

This is the tale of the Cyclopean Heresy.

-Hans Dorfmann, Inquisitor. Ordo Historia.

* * *

This is the beginning of my first story, the Cyclopean Heresy.

Inspired by Zahariel's awesome Roboutian Heresy. I felt the need to follow in his footsteps...to a point.

DISCLAIMER: The Warhammer 40000 universe belongs to Games Workshop.


	2. Chapter 2: The Ancalimon Atrocity

CHAPTER 2: First Strike

 _"_ _To usher in a new kingdom, the old must be thrown down."_

 _\- Magnus the Red, Arch-Traitor of Humanity._

Any war has the same beginning. One single shot.

Historians may debate for years, decades, or even millennia on which shot was the first in a particular war.

Sometimes, the first shot in the first battle of the war is merely apparent, having been preceded by decades of preparations, secret backdoor dealings, shadowed meetings, all ultimately leading to the predicted and desired outcome.

For me, though, the first shot will always be the one which marked me for all life.

We had been sent, alongside the Sons of Horus, the Ultramarines, and the Imperial Fists to the world of Ancalimon Prime. A real backwater world if ever there was one.

Discovered by the 2143th Expeditionary Fleet, it was a Feudal World, without even gunpowder technology. It was divided between several kingdoms, each trying to gain primacy over the others, without success, leading to a state of constant, but limited, war. It had settled in such a state for more than two thousand years, without any outside interference to imperil its social structure.

In a week, the 720th Solar Auxilia Cohort shattered it all.

The inhabitants fought with swords, pikes, iron maces and shields…against Volkite Guns and Leman Russ Tanks. Brave. But futile.

They entered Imperial Compliance and became a Civilized World. An exemplary one in this desolate, backwater region of the Eastern Fringe.

The White Scars even recruited some young men from the planet. A rare honor given out by the sons of Chogoris. A perfect example of what Mankind could achieve through the Imperial Truth.

Until 455.005. M31.

A Sons of Horus Light Cruiser had received reports of a revolt on Ancalimon Prime. The local governor—a former Captain of the Solar Auxilia-was dead. The world was in the hands of the " Ancalimon Democratic State". Why normal people have to invent such complicated names for rebellion, it will forever elude me.

Upon hearing of it, Warmaster Horus chose to make Ancalimon the example of the Imperium's policy towards rebellion.

He ordered four Legions to deploy there and crush the rebellion rapidly and decisively before it could spread.

Here is the order of battle. I will probably remember it for the rest of my life.

\- Sons of Horus: 30000 Astartes, under Captain Iacton Qruze

\- Imperial Fists: 25000 Astartes under Captain Demetrius Katafalque

\- World Eaters: 20000 Astartes under Standard Bearer Jeddek

\- Word Bearers: 35000 Astartes under Chapter Master Hol Beloth

Additional support:

\- 2 Army tank divisions (Malcador Heavy Tanks, Leman Russ)

We landed on Ancalimon using only drop pods. According to Horus, such an attack would surprise the rebels and throw them in disarray and panic.

Well, they did not panic. They were armed with standard issue Lasguns, some with leftover or stolen Solar Auxilia Volkites. That we expected, and were ready for.

But we were not prepared for the sheer madness which pushed them against us. They fired all they could at us, then they tried to attack us with fire-lit torches and rigged firebombs…which could make vehicle ops problematic, but were no use against Bolters.

Then…they began to blow themselves up. Using salvaged explosive charges from the Titanium mines on the planet, they strapped the charges upon themselves and tried to take us with them.

I have to say that often it worked. Many Marines were killed by the improvised bombers, because they had never faced such madness and were thus unprepared for it.

But we could never have imagined that the same madness, in a more subtle form, had taken root…in our own brothers, back in orbit. They were readying themselves to strike at us. This is the worst situation for a soldier. We were fighting an enemy…with a blade poised to strike at our backs.

After the battle was won, six hours after planetfall, we awaited pick-up.

What came from orbit….was a Virus Bomb Barrage. It struck the planet and began to turn any and all biological material to sludge. It was followed by a firestorm so powerful it lasted for a day and a night. The land turned rapidly to glass, and our forces tried to seek cover. Very few succeeded.

100.000 Astartes had landed on Ancalimon Prime.

97.000 Astartes were alive at the end of the battle against the rebels.

 _Less than 20.000 survived the firestorm_.

Accurately, we were:

-Sons of Horus: 5212

-Imperial Fists: 3423

-World Eaters: 7219 (due to their emphasis on close combat, they were inside the city, where cover was most available)

-Word Bearers: 2993.

Without any means to contact outside support (even if we could do that, it would have been suicidal, due to the presence of the now-enemy fleet in orbit) and betrayed by our own brothers and fathers, forced out from an age of illumination into one of eternal warfare. If Hell existed, this was it.

Perhaps those who melted inside their own armor…were the lucky ones, for they did not survive the time needed to realize the sheer magnitude of the betrayal they had just suffered.

I was one of the unfortunate who survived. We believed that the Traitors would come down to finish the job and hammer us into oblivion, however it was not so.

They had already left. Going away to conquer vast swathes of the Imperium. To strike against those who will embrace them as brothers…and die bitten by thousands of vipers. Leaving us here, on this dead world, to die of starvation.

We survived for four long months, living upon recycled food rations or going into Suspended Animation to conserve energies, until another ship arrived and found us by chance.

It was the _Echo of Justice_ , a Strike Cruiser of the Night Lords.

Now we are on Nostramo, the dark, sunless world the Eighth calls home. Unfortunately we could not go to Terra as the Night Lords vessel had been recalled by Lord Curze for an emergency of the gravest kind.

An entire Craftworld of Eldar -Ila'Manesh, as the xenos called it- had begun to systematically exterminate all humans in the north reaches of the Imperium closest to the Ghoul Stars. That put Nostramo and dozens more worlds, with tens of billions of people living on them, straight in the xenos' crosshairs…

And Curze, the King of the Night could not allow the worlds and the population he had reclaimed from the cold darkness to be sentenced to oblivion by these arrogant xenos. I could not fault him, despite all that had happened.

Well, no matter. To us, it will be like target practice for the real war. The War against the Traitors. These arrogant Eldar will feel the fiery wrath of the Survivors of Ancalimon Prime.

After them, it will be our Primarchs who shall feel it.

-Maloq Kartho, formerly Sergeant of the Word Bearers. Now interred inside a Castraferrum pattern Dreadnought.

From his text: _The Wars in the Ghoul Stars._


	3. Chapter 3 : The Pahineh Sector

CHAPTER 2: Conquest of the Pahineh Sector

 _"_ _Brothers! Welcome to the feast! Tell me, which among you will be the first course?" – Verus Caspean, Chapter Master of the 2_ _nd_ _Chapter of the Ultramarines, to the assembled dignitaries of Karan III_

The first step in the Heresy was the conquest of the Pahineh Sector.

The Sector, established in 921.M30 by the 945th Expeditionary Fleet, led by the White Scars, was an industrial powerhouse. Its moons hosted valuable minerals, which were refined and processed by the space installations and planetside facilities to be used in the construction of starships, fighter vehicles and tanks, as well as many other types of vehicles used by the Imperial Armada. Such a bounty would provide an optimal base for further expansion of the New Kingdom here in the Northern part of the galaxy.

Most importantly, ten neighboring Sectors were dependent in part or in full upon Pahineh's output. It was predicted that, with Pahineh conquered, those sectors would fall as well in a few weeks, starved of raw materials.

The Traitors planned to conquer the Sector through a three-pronged assault. The first attack would come from the North, made of the four fleets which had purged their loyalist elements at Ancalimon, a backwater system conveniently located very close to the target Sector.

The second one would come from the South, made of another legion: the White Scars, who had committed 30.000 Legionaries under Hibou Khan.

The third one would come from the East, straight from Ultramar. The Ultramarines.

With the advantage of surprise still in their hands, the Sector would fall in a few weeks, and the bonds between the Traitor Legions would be reinforced by common fighting against the Loyalists.

His predictions would be vindicated.

-The following parts are taken from various battles fought in this Sector.-

-The Battle of Hophib-

The first system to be conquered would be Hophib. Beset by the combined might of three Traitor Legions, the system, which was used as the Administratum center for the Nouta Sub-Sector, would fall in a few hours. The local adepts were sent to the Cobalt mines on the moons of the tenth planet of the system and worked to death or…illuminated on the glories of the New Kingdom which Magnus saw in the "Great Ocean" . Death of the body or death of the soul.

The only meaningful resistance was that of a Magos, whose name has been lost to history, who did his part in resisting the march of the Arch-Traitor's armadas. He was the overseer of the Chromium mines on the moon of Hophib IV. Sensing his prisoners-workers had revolted, he examined all possible scenarios available in such a situation…only to find there was none. Three Legions going against the Imperium! How could one predict such an apocalyptic scenario?

So he chose to do what many others, in the successive ten years on the Loyalist side, and in the following seven on the Traitor side, would do.

Asset denial.

He initiated the overload sequence of the mines' Plasma Generatorium.

The explosion shook the 182-km-wide moon apart, creating a huge ring of asteroids around the fourth planet, whose gravitational system was thrown in disarray by the satellite's destruction. Many lives would be lost through this, but the Traitors would not be able to use them for work on the other moons.

But Hophib hosted two deadly secrets. Two Heavy Cruisers from the Dark Age of Technology had crashed upon the oceanic world Hophib XII millennia before. The Administratum Space Station built above the world , erased from the archives after completion, was but a cover for the exploration of these two ships from a lost era. Protection detail was at a minimum, for the ships were kept secret from Mars by the local Omigiav Mechanicum.

Now those ships and the dreadful weapons held aboard were in the hands of the Traitors.

A dreadful thought, indeed.

-The Murder of Karan III-

The Ultramarines hit the easternmost system in the Sector. Its name was Karan.

The system capitulated after 22 shots fired from the Ultramarine capital ship _Herald of Battle._

The killing began …after that, as the Thirteenth descended upon Karan III, an Hive World, to negotiate the terms of surrender.

Unfortunately, the conquering army was led by Verus Caspean, Chapter Master of the 2nd Chapter of the Ultramarines. He led an army of psychopaths…and he was the worst of them all.

For five days, his Chapter gathered those who were deemed …worthy…by their Librarians, whose staffs seemed to project electric pink lightning.

On the sixth day, they were sacrificed in debauched rituals or used to create new drugs and psychotropic substances for their transhuman conquerors to use or classified as _target practice_ for the prototype Sonic weapons the Thirteenth Legion Techmarines had just invented.

The young boys, though, were faced with a far worse fate than that of their parents.

They were forced to take Guilliman' s vile gene-seed. Turning them into new Ultramarines. Monsters devoid of any morality or honor, existing just to satisfy their own darkest desires.

When the Thirteenth entered Karan III's orbit, the planet had 3.5 billion inhabitants.

When they left, it was down to 4 million. And this was because they planned on returning …and wanted the planetary population to grow back so they could …harvest an acceptable quantity later.

-Coreward Front-

As the White Scars attacked the Sector from the south, eager to find new converts to their faith, the Twelfth, led by its primarch sought to attack the Fabai Sub-Sector, home to vast Promethium mines and other valuable metals.

Angron, however, had not been lured to the rebels' side through promises of wealth or power, as with Guilliman, or through ambition, as with the Lion. Neither did he believe in a God or Gods, as the Khan did.

He had decided to join Magnus because he viewed the Emperor as a bloodthirsty tyrant, who sought to build an Empire without thinking about his subjects' wellbeing or consent to his ambitions…..

 _-Unknown system, 003.M31-_

 _Aboard the Freedom, flagship of the XII Legion, The World Eaters_

 _Magnus the Red's shuttle landed in the Gloriana-class Battleship's hangar. The Fifteenth Primarch had requested this meeting "to better organize their next campaign together". It seemed surprising for the Thousand Sons, who had just been chastised at Nikaea for their use of forbidden psychic powers to return to the Crusade so quickly…._

 _"_ _Brother. We have much to discuss."_

 _The two primarchs entered the lift which would lead to Angron's private rooms. No one was allowed inside, neither the Devourers nor the Scarab Occult._

 _"_ _Tell me, Angron. What do you think of the Imperium?"_

 _The son of Nuceria thought about it, and stated "It is…winning…"_

 _"_ _What you really think, Angron…."_

 _"_ _You won't like that, Magnus."_

 _"_ _Let me judge whether I will like it or not. So?"_

 _Angron sat there for thirty seconds, thinking silently. Then he spoke:_

 _"_ _It is a dictatorship. A state built out of war and conquest, built out of the will…of one man. An illegitimate state. One which makes a pact with hybrids of machines and men, who use slaves and lobotomized criminals. One which forces its Truth upon its citizens, heedless of the local planets' creeds. Such a state is a criminal empire. It cannot stand. It should not stand."_

 _"_ _I think exactly as you do."_

 _That single phrase brought Angron's mind processes to a crashing halt._

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _You heard me. I believe exactly as you do. The Imperium cannot stand. It is a brake forced on humanity's progress. On humanity's freedom. You talk about physical freedom. I have focused upon the mind. But the result is the same It has become clear the Emperor would rather hold humanity chained forever, shackled to him, than see it ascend to its maximum potential, both in mind and in body. He would see this New Mankind as a threat to his eternal rule. Thus He is an obstacle that must be removed. The White Scars are with me. But We need more. Join with Me, Angron. Join us, and Mankind shall see the Terran Tyrant cast down, and the glory of a New Kingdom of peace and illumination, of truth and freedom."_

 _Angron needed no more words. In reality, he had made up his mind long before on rebellion. He just needed the perfect opportunity._

 _"_ _I am with you, Magnus. For the New Kingdom."_

The Twelfth Legion attacked the Forge World of Omigiav IV first. Ruled by Arch-Magos Ners Nukkosa, it was based upon manufacture of Main Battle Tanks and APC. To build them, it mined out the precious minerals using slaves and Servitors converted from criminals.

The perfect target for the World Eaters. Coming from the southwest, they tore apart the local defense fleet, heading straight for the Mechanicum domain.

The Forge World's defenses, despite their strength, were not ready for the blade in the back, and the sheer relentlessness of the sons of Angron. The world fell in 3 days.

The ruling magos were either killed by chainsword or forced to work in the same mines they had previously overseen. The mines would later be brought back to utmost capacity by the Traitors, after the World Eaters had left, using captured Imperial Army soldiers and people forcibly abducted from Feral Worlds in the Sector.

The same events would replay all across the Sector, even before the arrival of the Traitor Legionaries . Prisoners would rise up in revolt, overwhelming their overseers or bringing the mines operations to a halt. Citizens would attack and overthrow the law enforcement authorities of their worlds, deeming them "unworthy servants of a False Emperor" or " worthy sacrifices to the true Gods"

After 3 weeks, only the Pahineh Sub-Sector itself remained unconquered. The Legions gathered to strike at the last target before moving on.

Except, it would not be like the others.

-Siege of Pahineh -

As the Traitor fleet broke into the Jasson system, the first system of the Pahineh Sub-Sector, they were not faced by shattered, demoralized defenders, ripe for the conquest. After the precedent victories, like the Razing of Yehaba VIII, in which the White Scars butchered 90% of the planetary population of 13 million in a single day, or the Murder of Mav Uchje I, where the Sons of Horus killed, maimed and burned the local Militia force, then bombed the world's cities _, then_ fired a Cyclonic Torpedo at the planet, turning it into a new asteroid belt, 8 of the 10 neighbouring Sectors declared their allegiance to the New Kingdom. The Sub-Sector was expected to capitulate in a few days. It was not so.

The Traitors were facing instead a host of starships (3 full Expeditionary Fleets, the 3474th, the 3475th and the 3476th), planet and moon garrisons fully on alert, and what was worse…. Astartes.

Because the flagship leading the Loyalists was the _Andronicus_. An Heavy Strike Cruiser of the Emperor's Children.

However, the Traitors were faced not just by the unbreakable shield of the sons of Fulgrim, but also by the formless, shapeless terror that was the Last Legion.

In fact, as the Ultramarines rushed forward, launching bomber squadrons against the Loyalists, their first launched squadrons…turned abruptly and fired on their own allies, their crews vented into space through massive cogitator override code failures and automatic failsafes triggering without warning.

As the White Scars launched a boarding action against the Space Station orbiting Jasson Prime using a captured Grand Cruiser as ablative cover, and supported by a Khorchin Chaos Cult numbering in the tens of thousands, they were faced by human soldiers led by the Twentieth Legion Astartes.

The garrison made the Traitors pay dearly for every metre, every bulkhead, every room seized. The sons of Alpharius had turned the demoralized defenders into a dedicated army willing to die before taking a step back. Worse, the Alpha Legion had turned the Station itself into a maze of deathtraps, anti-personnel explosives and remotely-triggered local depressurization events. The Fifth and their crazed cultist allies would die in droves for every Loyalist they killed. In the end, numbers prevailed...for a while.

When finally the Fifth Legion contingent reached the Station Control Center, they were reduced down to a tenth of their original number…and forced to watch the holo-screens project a flashing ten-second countdown.

Ten seconds later, the Station Generatorium suffered a massive containment failure, dooming the remaining 596 Traitor Astartes and the thousands of Cultists aboard to a fiery, if instant, death, their Gene-seed and their bodies vaporized beyond any hope of recovery…. due to being reduced to cosmic dust.

After one month of grueling losses and only one system taken (Jasson, whose valuable Dysprosium reserves were lost with the space station) and no sign of a Loyalist surrender, a cabal of Thousand Sons sorcerers attached to the fleet undertook a dark ritual which allowed a Warp Storm to be summoned, using the millions of colonists on the Civilized World of Jasson IV as a sacrifice, along with thousands of newly-converted Cultists. The entire Sub-Sector was to be cut off from the rest of the galaxy. It would be left on its own against the daemonic legions of the Dark Gods.

This happened because Magnus the Red had grown impatient with the stalemate. He wanted the Legions to rejoin the fight in other sectors. Time was of the essence.

Because the Arch-Traitor, along with Rogal Dorn, Sanguinius and the majority of the Seventh, Ninth and Fifteenth Legions, was heading towards a far more important target. Its annihilation could cause such a shockwave throughout the Imperium that many systems and Sectors would join him, enough to even cause despair and hopelessness in the entire galaxy.

In the Strategium of the _Photep,_ an holographic projector was activated. The ancient machine displayed the target planet.

Fenris.


	4. Chapter 4: The Khorchin Cults

CHAPTER 3: The Khorchin Cults

 **Secret report of the Ordo Malleus, code 39.666.93. Access granted. Welcome, Lord Inquisitor.**

 _"_ _Most believe that the wall separating civilisation from barbarism is as solid as steel, but it is not. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass. A touch here, a push there, and you bring back the reign of pagan superstition, fear of the dark and the worship of fell beings in echoing fanes."- Unknown author (according to some, Kyril Sindermann, Primary Iterator of the 63_ _rd_ _Expeditionary Fleet. )_

In the first two years of the Heresy, Chaos was reigning all over the Imperium. No sector was spared, not even Sol itself.

On countless planets, riots and revolutions were in full swing. Chaos Cults, long hidden but vital and secretly gathering new converts, had thrown off the mask of civilization and of progress worn for years and revealed their true barbaric face.

They rampaged through the cities, under banners of countless colours, decorated in arcane, foul letters of daemonic alphabets around eight-pointed stars, killing any and all they deemed to be not a member of their faith or not sufficiently faithful. How, it depended upon which God the cult served. The lucky ones died at the hands of Khorneate Cults. Those who faced other types of cults were less lucky.

Many of these occult religions, however, had one critical trait in common. The language which they used for their liturgies. Khorchin. The harsh language of Chogoris, the homeworld of the Fifth Primarch, the first one to turn from the Emperor's light to the service of Chaos, was the constant base of their unholy liturgies, of their sacrificial prayers, of their hymnals of impurity.

No matter whether they served Khorne, Nurgle, Slaanesh or Tzeentch, or the Chaos Pantheon as a whole, these mad zealots prayed or butchered (many did both at the same time) while speaking Khorchin, which they called the Sacred Language, second only to the Dark Tongue of the Neverborn, which "only the most powerful Champions of the Gods and the Heralds of the Gods were entitled to speak." (testimony from a captured member of one of these Cults based on Yarant, later executed for treason.)

Entire worlds were set aflame by the Khorchin Cults, proving their devotion to the unholy beasts they called Gods by slaughtering anyone, even their close kin, who had refused to spit upon the oaths to the Aquila. Many of those slit their own throats or immolated themselves to open rifts into the Immaterium, allowing the daemons beyond to lay claim to the planet….or their bodies, ushering the horrors of the Possessed. In more than a few cases, whole planets became the playground of the daemonic forces, being then swallowed whole by the Immaterium and became the hellish kingdoms of Daemon Lords, among which there were, unfortunately, some of the foulest Astartes Traitors. An infamous example is that of Tsuruma VIII, in the Segmentum Solar, during the Solar War. A local Chaotic cult, the Cult of the Gods of the Storm, overran the planet and conducted a foul ritual for their Astartes leader, Hibou Khan of the White Scars. The ritual, in which the mad cultists killed themselves and millions of captured Loyalist Army prisoners in an orgy of bloodshed, was enough to impress Khorne, who transformed Hibou Khan into one of his Daemon Princes. Now the formerly Ice World has been relocated to the Eye of Terror, where, according to the seers of the Ordo, it still resides, being the base of many a Blood Crusade against the Imperium.

Or the Sorcerer Mkani Kano, of the Ninth Legion, who, during the Purification, used an entire Sector-wide network of Khorchin Cultists, as his pawns to gather the necessary components to reassemble an ancient Chaotic weapon which, when activated, destroyed an entire Battlefleet. The backblast of the foul weapon was too much for the soul of the son of Baal to resist. It dissolved, turning the foul spawn of Sanguinius into a Daemon Prince of Tzeentch.

These and many other Traitors are still hunted by the Ordo to this day.

Other Cults, more simply, conquered the planet upon which they were spawned, creating a more-or-less stable power structure. Most of the time, they were Ochlocracies (mob rule) or Absolute Monarchies.

Meaning either the hordes of cultists had absolute power of life and death, and murdered all suspect Loyalists it could find, or the leader of the cult held absolute power, and decreed the death of all Loyalists. In the end, the result was the same.

On many other worlds, however, productivity had to be maintained high in order to support the New Kingdom's war machine.

The Khorchin cults formed what the Inquisition calls (as a way of grouping them together in a coherent system) Storm Reaper Units, dedicated to rounding up all suspect Loyalists and even those who sought to be left alone, unwilling to take a side in a war of which they could not see the reasons, and seemed to them totally senseless, and condemned them to forced labour. They would inevitably die, working without pause to fulfill the resource quotas demanded by the New Kingdom's resource collectors for the Traitor war effort.

At the same time, cultists in the local defense fleets went to the closest unconquered systems, demanding compliance with the New Kingdom...and warning them of the fate that would befall them if they refused.

On many worlds, the Traitor Astartes, mostly of the White Scars Legion, arrived only to find a world already conquered by the cults seeded there. They named the leader cultist Viceroy of the planet or system, ruling in the name of Magnus the Red, the sovereign ruler of the New Kingdom of Mankind.

Then they left, spreading their corruption to other worlds.

Not all worlds would fall easily, however. Competent military commanders on the Loyalist side could even out the fight against the cults, especially if they could count upon military units of proven capabilities and loyalty.

Such was the case on Shebi V. The local Auxilia units had rallied behind a veteran of the Great Crusade, whose name is lost to us, who had served with the Iron Warriors Expeditionary Fleets, and had learned much about defense and fortification construction.

The Cultists simply ground themselves to death against his barricades, trenches, artillery positions, and Tanks. Shebi V remained in Loyalist hands.

When the New Kingdom emissary –in Shebi's case, a White Scars line battle-brother- landed on the planet, expecting to be welcomed as a godly messenger, he was instead vaporized by a Leman Russ Executioner barrage. The Heroes of Shebi survived for 37 days before they were butchered by a Sons of Horus Terminator detachment.

This is just one of the most storied examples where normal humans faced the madness of Chaos and briefly triumphed against it, a nigh impossible task, especially when those trying to murder them were their own brothers and sisters, who had found solace in a religion founded on killing and the worship of the unholy creatures dwelling in the Immaterium, cloaking themselves in benevolent guises, but "asking this sacrifice to open the gates of Heaven to the true believers".

This is why the Inquisition, in this case the Ordo Malleus, exists today.

It exists to prevent such horrors from repeating.

If it means destroying whole worlds, so be it.

If it means erasing entire battles from history, so be it.

The heroes of Shebi and of the other defiant worlds of that era have been forgotten by the Imperium at large.

But not by us.

We will never forget their sacrifice. And we will ensure it was not in vain. We will preserve the Imperium…with any and all means.

Because the alternative is too horrifying to contemplate.

END FILE. ABHOR THE DAEMON. PURGE THE DAEMON.


	5. Chapter 5: Treachery at Port Maw

CHAPTER 4: Treachery at Port Maw

 _"Here we stand and here shall we die, unbroken and unbowed, though the very hand of death itself come for us, we will spit our defiance to the end!" – Jocasta MaSade, captain of the Telemachus, just before the final assault by the Deathwing Units._

Almost on the same day as the Ancalimon Massacre, the Segmentum Majoris base at Port Maw was in a flurry of activity.

Grand Admiral Ospheus LaBray had just received his Gala uniform from his adjutant. He breathed out. And reflected on the event which had caused all this.

The Primarch Lion El'Jonson had sent an Astropathic message, asking that the Port Maw Fleet be reactivated for an extraordinary fleet review and wargame with the Dark Angels' 4th Expeditionary Fleet.

And one did not keep the Primarch of the First Legion waiting. Both for the absolute precedence of Primarchs over Grand Admirals in the Armada chain of command and the …reputation …of the First Primarch.

The Son of Caliban had a certain penchant for ….disposing …of those non-Astartes officers he found unworthy. Most of the times for inefficiencies in obeying orders (11 seconds instead of 10 in executing his command) but other times it was unexplainable. The death of Admiral Brodd Kilimnic had become infamous across the Segmentum Obscurus Fleet. Just because his Cruiser squadron had not exited in the correct realspace position during the Compliance of 4-132 due to a freak Warp current, the Lion had him sentenced to death. But some said it happened because the Admiral had been born in a poor family on Terra. The Lion had a strong obsession with the outdated concept of the nobility of blood, and believed that low-born men were, by nature, inferior to those of blue blood. On Terra, we had worn ourselves off those concepts during the Unification Wars. On Caliban, they were everything.

Seeing him choked to death by a Terminator-armoured Legionary was a sight he would never forget.

Rumours circulating around the Armada held that such _events_ had become more and more common over the last Terran year.

So Grand Admiral LaBray wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible. He did not want the Lion to find any excuse to execute him…or any of his men.

As he surveyed for the thirty-fifth time the arrayed Solar Auxilia Cohorts and the officers' delegation, LaBray asked himself why the Emperor had not intervened to chastise His son. Such behavior risked undermining the morale of the Armada.

Despite being in command of a Reserve Fleet, the Grand Admiral knew that any being in command of thousands could not rule upon them through the mere exercise of fear. Fear _was powerful_ , as the Night Lords often showed. Their successful campaigns proved it.

But an army held together by fear was vulnerable. One day, they would be forced to fight an enemy which they would come to fear more than the general's lash. And they would turn upon their leader, in the hope of escaping death at the hands of the enemy.

As he saw through the maw of the hollow planetoid the Dark Angels fleet nearing the Port entrance, he crushed his philosophical thoughts.

Time to meet a Primarch…and hope to survive. Literally, this time.

-Port Maw Landing Pad A-22-

As the personal ship of the First Primarch reached the landing pad, the assembled personnel could not help but marvel at the sight of the great dropship.

Called the _Black Predator_ , it was a relic of the Dark Age of Technology. Shaped like a Bird-of Prey, it was painted jet-black and carried weapons which the Mechanicum was never able to replicate. It was recovered from an asteroid in the Trans-Neptunian region of the Sol System, and gifted to the First Legion by the Emperor himself.

From it came out two dozen members of the Deathwing, the Terminator armored elite of the First Legion…and the Primarch's Honored Guards.

Finally, the Lion himself came out. Arrayed in ancient Power Armour, crafted by Mechanicum adepts following ancient schematics found on Caliban, it was the modern reincarnation of a medieval era European Warrior. Carrying his Lion Sword, his face hidden by the Lion Helm, he radiated a strong, very intimidating aura.

Grand Admiral LaBray moved to his knees swiftly for a man of his age. Adrenaline helped a lot in his case.

"Lord Primarch, I welcome you to Port Maw."

"Rise, Grand Admiral. I suppose all units are ready to sail?"

"Yes, my Lord. All we need is the location where the wargame is to be held."

The Lion waited a moment, then said. "There will be no wargame, Grand Admiral."

LaBray was now puzzled. Why would the Lion lie about the reason for assembling the fleet? What reason could there be for such a subterfuge?

"My Lord, I am confused. Your message stated…"

"a wargame? Yes. But the situation has changed. The Port Maw fleet will have to fight a real war."

"What war? This Cluster has been at peace for years…."

"The war against the greatest threat Mankind has ever faced. The Emperor."

LaBray was stunned. The First Primarch had not just said what he had just heard…had he?

"My Lord, perhaps I misunderstood…"

"No, Grand Admiral. The Emperor is a threat to the future of Mankind. He has to be thrown down, lest we create an Imperium of lies and deceit. Where do you stand, Grand Admiral ?"

LaBray was aghast. Betrayal. The Emperor was being betrayed by the First Primarch. He did not hesitate. He swiftly pulled up his Volkite Serpenta and shouted: "Lion El'Jonson. I declare you a Traitor."

And fired.

The Lion's Armor emitted an energy field which nullified the attack.

"I am sorry, Grand Admiral. But you made the wrong choice."

The Primarch pulled out the Lion Sword and stabbed the Grand Admiral. The sword exited through the old officer's back, cutting the spinal cord at the T4-T5 level and paralyzing him. The Lion then hurled him from the Landing Pad to his death, on the inner surface of Port Maw.

Just before the impact, the dying Grand Admiral reflected upon the events.

The Great Crusade, the endeavor to which he had dedicated his life, was over.

An Age of Darkness had just begun. The Imperium would suffer a transformation, and would be changed forever by this betrayal.

And Ospheus LaBray, Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy, just realized his sheer luck.

 _He would not be there to see the final result. His war was over._

Meanwhile, at the Landing Pad, which was now strewn with the dead bodies of the Grand Admiral 's Command Staff, torn apart by the Deathwing's Bolters or burned by Plasma Weapons, The Lion activated his personal Vox unit.

"Deathwing-Execute Protocol 2."

Protocol 2 was the secret code for the forceful seizing of the Port Maw fleet. Teleporter arrays activated and primed aboard the Dark Angels fleet ships delivered Deathwing Terminators and Dark Angels line troops aboard the Port Maw Defense Fleet.

The officers and crewmembers aboard were given a choice: swear allegiance to the Lion and the New Kingdom or die.

Many chose the first option, bowing to the might of the First Legion and forswearing their oaths to the Emperor to survive.

But not all.

The Agathean Cruiser _Telemachus_ rejected the betrayal and fired upon the Dark Angels fleet, taking out one Escort squadron and damaging a Cruiser before the Deathwing managed to board it and subdue the bridge crew, who had managed to repel the Tactical Squad initially assigned to its capture, succeeding in killing two Astartes.

Or the _Kurga_ , an ancient Dictatus class Battleship, which managed to escape through an exceptionally risky maneuver: open a Warp vortex _inside_ Port Maw. The ship would later reach Terra and play a critical role in the Siege.

But these exceptions aside, the Dark Angels scored a massive victory through the act that history remembers as the Treachery at Port Maw.

1 Dreadnought (the Triumph of Reason, flagship of the Port Maw Fleet) ,14 Battleships, 43 Grand Cruisers, and scores of lesser ships had been removed from the Loyalist side and added to the Traitor Armada. The First Legion had just lost a few Astartes and a single Escort squadron. No members of the Deathwing were lost. The shipyards inside the hollow planet would replace them and allow his fleet to grow to an unimaginable size, far beyond that of any single Expeditionary Fleet, even the 63rd under Horus would be dwarfed by his personal Armada.

As the Lion looked at the massive space installation he had just conquered, he felt his beliefs vindicated and free to think openly, without being forced to guard his mind from the Emperor's powers.

He had just conquered one of the most powerful space installations of the Imperium in a few hours. This alone proved his abilities as a strategist. Coupled with his Crusade Compliance Tallies, it was abundantly clear the Emperor had made a mistake. A terrible one, indeed.

The Emperor should have named _him_ Warmaster, not Horus Lupercal. _He_ was the First Primarch, _he_ led the First Legion. What better choice than him, born of the nobility of Caliban?

His Father would pay dearly for his mistakes, the Lion swore.

And one day, the Golden Throne will be his. He would not leave it to Magnus the Red nor to anyone else. In the meantime, the Dark Angels would spread throughout the rest of the Segmentum Obscurus. To all planets would be given a choice, and only once.

 _Submit or die._

-M'Pandex Forge World-

The High Ourteka M'andii of the Golden Forge looked outside his palace. Outside was the new Taghmata of his world, ready to board the fleet and attack the Cyclops Cluster. The sight made the man-machine hybrid proud (or the machine equivalent of said emotion, as the emotional centers of the brain had been replaced by synthetics years before).

When the Imperium had rediscovered M'Pandex decades before, it was a ruined world, with only scraps of technology, few inactive Titans and hordes of devolved machine-man hybrids as its main population. Even Lingua-Technis had been bastardized and degraded.

It was the Martian Mechanicum that rebuilt M'Pandex, bringing it back to the required standards of a true Forge World. But it was the Thousand Sons who guided them to true greatness. For the rulers of M'Pandex had a common mission with the Fifteenth.

Rediscovering their species' and their world's lost history.

The Fifteenth had helped the ancient Forge World in designing new weapons and new implants for their Skitarii, but also in deciphering new STCs recovered from the worlds of the Cyclops Cluster. The Thousand Sons Astartes pored over the ancient texts left in M'Pandex's data-libraries, thus rediscovering a large part of the events and origins of his world.

When the Thousand Sons rediscovered a Human Light Cruiser dating back to M23 (which would equal an Oberon class Battleship of the modern era) crashed upon a dead moon in the depths of the Tamahl Sector, they brought it to M'Pandex, cementing the Forge World's role in the Mechanicum and its secret one as a loyal servant of the Fifteenth Legion.

When Magnus gave the call to rise up and make war for the New Kingdom, M'Pandex was faced by a choice: remain with the Mechanicum, which had looked down upon them as failures and savages to be watched for potential rebellion, or stand with the Legion which had helped them restore a part of their lost glory, and had treated them as fellow seekers of truth and knowledge?

The choice required only 2.1324254 picoseconds of computation time. Brief, even by Mechanicum standards.

Now, their newly expanded Taghmata was ready to conquer the worlds of the Segmentum Obscurus, alongside the Dark Angels and their Primarch. Mezoa, their ancient rivals, would be forced to bow before the armies of M'Pandex, and forced to obey those of a world far more ancient than theirs, as nature dictated. The Pentarchy of Archimandrites would be cast down, and forced into slavery. The mere thought filled his cogitators with the machine equivalent of savage joy.

He knew the Lion would relish the addition of his world's forces to his own.

But only one man could truly command him and the armies of M'Pandex. _Only one man._

And that man was _not_ the Lion.


	6. Chapter 6: The Arch-Traitor

The Arch-Traitor's Plans

Magnus the Red was sitting inside his sanctum aboard the _Photep_. He was reexamining the latest update about the War, which had begun six Terran months before, at Ancalimon, through a mass purging of Loyalists inside four Traitor Legions, and the near-simultaneous seizure of Port Maw by the Lion.

So far, things were going well for the New Kingdom.

Ultramar was now fully committed to the Traitor cause. All Loyalist elements inside the Thirteenth Legion had been purged in sector-wide purges. The Eastern Front was secure, ready to be used as a safe base in case it was needed. The Thirteenth were on their course to embrace the path of the Prince of Pleasure, to the horror of all. Including some Traitors, Magnus noted. Even he sometimes felt dread when he thought of Guilliman and the path he had chosen. Only those who had fully sold their soul to Slaanesh could truly understand the path of the Youngest God, it seemed.

Angron had retaken the Nuceria Sector, and was busy launching his Liberation War in the southern reaches of the Ultima Segmentum, destroying any and all worlds he believed to be oppressing other worlds. If he knew the destiny that awaited him, though…

The White Scars were activating their secret Cults, seeded over the preceding decades all over the Imperium, after the Khan was illuminated about the Primordial Truth upon an ancient Daemon World, deep within the Maelstrom, whose name is not fit for mortal tongues to speak. Many star systems had welcomed the Traitor battlegroups and were openly declaring themselves part of Magnus' New Kingdom, after having …processed….some Loyalist problems.

His friend Lorgar had just reported from the Western Front. The surprise attack had worked, bringing half of Segmentum Pacificus under the Colchisian Dominate, a newly-created realm which would be left to him to rule as a tributary kingdom to the New Kingdom after the war. Lorgar had joined him because of their friendship, but he knew he had always sought the deeper truth of the universe…even on Colchis. Magnus had helped him, as the Khan had done for him. And now Lorgar desired nothing more than to destroy the Imperium of Lies.

The Blood Angels had finally emerged from the Urhinichi Cluster, where he had sent them to seek out an Ork Empire . But gone was their rage, their passion for assaults…as well as their blood-thirst. Now, they were eternally beholden to Tzeentch, the God of Change. Sorcery and mutation were now their weapon…

 _-Orbit of Urhinichi IX, Forbidden World-_

 _Time: 234.005.M31_

The Ninth Legion had just landed upon the world of Urhinichi IX, officially classified as an Industrial World, under Ork occupation

Officially, that is. Because what they were seeing…was Hell.

Blue and pink creatures were wandering about the landscape, fighting each other. The land itself seemed to shift, changing sometimes dramatically, with rivers replaced by kilometer-high mountains who instantly crumbled to reveal deep chasms and oceans, which immediately dried up and were replaced by deserts of ice or sand. Nothing remained constant, everything mutated and changed in seconds (of real-space time, because on the planets, time escaped all rules).

A huge chasm then opened beneath Sanguinius, forcing him into the deep earth. The Legion followed him down, trying to recover their father.

Deep inside the planet's crust, the Legion entered an enormous cavern, kilometers high. Inside, the Ninth was faced by some sort of Tower, which phased in and out of the bedrock.

Suddenly nine high pillars burst out of the bedrock, lightning arcing between. The arcane construct then exploded, disintegrating.

In its place was a creature with a bird-like face, spindly arms and legs, holding a staff which radiated rainbow light, which caused grave malaise in the psychically-gifted sons of the Angel.

It—he or she somehow seemed inapplicable to this being-then spoke.

"Sanguinius, Ninth Son of the Anathema, Angel of Baal. Welcome to my humble abode. I am Ix'thar'ganix, the Slayer of Destinies. I had to slay not one, but two timelines to ensure you would not fall to the horrifying paths lain before you…and your Legion."

Sanguinius was dumbstruck. This creature was saying it had _saved_ his Legion?

"But there is still a dreadful future to be avoided. One path which your Legion might yet take…and herald its doom."

Visions soon followed. The Ninth Legion was subjected to visions too horrifying to even contemplate, which they, deep inside, felt to be true.…

" _Red-armored beings, hungering for blood, slaughtering all in their path…."_

 _"_ _An Angel, insanely raging against himself and his own mind, on a world shaped by his own mind, unable to accept that his loved brother was dead by his own hands…"_

 _"_ _A gold armoured Emperor, giving orders to his blonde-haired executioner, who dwelled on a world of ice and fire..."_

 _"_ _The red armoured warriors executed by those who were not man, nor wolf, but stood in a gray space betwixt…"_

 _"_ _The Angel, looking up, only to see his emotionless brother's axe, coming down to end him, for his deviance from the Emperor's vision."_

The visions then ended. The Slayer of Destinies calmly stood there, unmoved, its face or beak showing no emotions whatsoever.

Sanguinius was instead desperate. This _being_ had just told him that he would be subjected to the Emperor's Axe, his Legion erased from history, to become the _third_ empty plinth beneath the roof of the Hegemon. He knew well what had befallen his brothers, those whose names could no longer be spoken aloud. As he tried crushing these thoughts, telling himself they were lies, they came up again, fueled by decades of hiding the Thirst that afflicted the Legion from everyone outside the Ninth."Can this future be averted, too?"

The daemon calmly replied "To slay this future, two things will be required. One, the curse hidden in your genome will have to be removed…and I can do that, because the Lord of Hope has given me the power to do so."

Sanguinius's eyes lit up. Could this daemon really do what he had tried and failed to do all those decades, hiding his efforts for fear of the Axe of Russ?

"Can you do it?"

"Nothing is beyond the power of my Lord, the Master of Hope, Ambition and Change. _Nothing_."

Sanguinius was awash with ambition and hope. What could his Legion achieve, free of the Curse? Endless possibilities opened before Sanguinius's eyes, to the extent that refusing the creature's offer seemed to him an offense to all Blood Angels who were and would exist in the future. He saw his Legion as an example of Imperial Law, the emblem of what Man could become. He saw his Legion lead what was called the Andromedan Crusade, conceived to extend the Imperium to a close galaxy….

"What is the second thing required?." First Captain Raldoron spoke aloud to the daemon. The bird-like creature turned to him, unfazed…yet a glimmer of delight could be seen in his eyes. _"I have them now."_

" Of course, son of the Angel. Two, the Executioner must be killed. Only when the Lord of the Ice World is dead, and his sons annihilated, will this future follow him into the grave, never to be resurrected."

Sanguinius was aghast. To kill his own brother was …wrong. Just plain wrong. Even if said brother was on the way to become his killer.

"Is there not any alternative to his death?"

"Unfortunately, there is none. If your Legion is to survive what is to come, the High King of Fenris and his Legion must be dead. Otherwise, the future you witnessed before…will eventually _be_."

The daemon seemed …surprised by the Angel's question. He felt his hold over Sanguinius slip. _Not when I am this close!_

Sanguinius's mind began spinning like a coin, desperately seeking a way to rationalize and find a way around this impossible choice. See his Legion die, or kill Leman Russ and become a traitor to the Emperor?

As his brain began deadlocking, a final vision washed over him.

 _Yes. This will do it._

" _The Wolves running around the galaxy, exploring dead worlds, seeking something to vindicate their father…and awaking horrors which threatened to end all, in their quest to restore a sixty-million years old empire."_

 _"_ _The undead machines rose, seeking out those responsible for their wrath. Using weapons which seemed to ignore the laws of physics, they tore Battleships asunder, turned verdant planets into dead worlds, and caused stars to explode…"_

 _"_ _Scores of identical machines, looking at him with soulless eyes. Their leader speaking. "Your desires are irrelevant. This galaxy once knelt before us, and it will do so again."_

Sanguinius staggered, then fell to the ground, his mind contemplating the dreadful vision he had received. These mechanical horrors…could put an end to humanity once and for all, and lead the galaxy back to eternal stagnation and unchanging machine rule, without any emotion, without passion. Only logic and the unshakeable dictatorship of command engrams. Resistance would be useless, for these beings had power beyond any other race, acquired over millions of years of programming...

He then felt a voice he knew very well. The voice of Magnus the Red. His closest and dearest friend, aside from Horus.

" _There is still time to stop the key from turning. You know what must be done."_

He finally spoke. "I accept your offer…and your price."

 _"_ _For Mankind."_

-end of flashback-

At the same time, the Dark Angels were busy in Segmentum Obscurus, conquering vast swathes of space north and north-west of the Eye of the Gods. The Lion was building a fine power base, Magnus noted…but to whom was that base beholden at the end? To him…or to the Lion, who had joined him out of personal ambition? Well, no matter. That would be a problem to be settled later, after the Emperor was dead. And besides, he knew M'Pandex was aiding the Lion only because Magnus himself had ordered them to do so. The High Ourteka's minions were a reliable source of information about the Lion's activities. _Knowledge is power_. He had to guard it well.

Especially because Rogal Dorn was preparing himself for the next war. The war against the Lion for the Golden Throne. Dorn, always arrogant, believed only he had the strength to guide Mankind to greatness. And subconsciously, he believed the Lion to be a rival. Magnus had to convince him to join his cause by promising him the Imperial Throne would be his, and that Magnus would instead dedicate himself to turn the Warp to their advantage. Chaos's touch had found a door inside Dorn's soul through his contempt for the Emperor and his bitterness over being passed over as Praetorian in favor of Fulgrim, the Child of the Emperor, whose veneration of him bordered on godlike devotion. It was gradually strengthening its hold over him, even if he had not given himself over to any of the Four, nor knew anything of the Primordial Truth. His and his Legion's Path to Glory had not begun. Not yet, at least.

Magnus marveled at the two warrior Primarchs' foolishness. They truly believed that he, Magnus the Red, the Scholar, would leave the Throne to them, as he had said to them when he convinced them to rebel. What naivety, Magnus thought. He would rule, and he alone, along with his sons. He and his Legion would not allow any other outcome.

He had a grand project in mind. This war would be the war to end all wars. Through this conflict, those who would shackle humanity would be removed from existence. All the loyal Primarchs would be converted or die. Mortarion, Russ, Perturabo and Corax especially….they had to die. For them, the psykers were intrinsically dangerous (Corax), had to be shackled and used only if strictly necessary to victory (Perturabo) taught the correct ways of Mother Fenris (Russ) or had to be purged totally from the human gene-line, which was threatened by the aberration (Mortarion).

Magnus the Red laughed at their folly. What they proposed equaled to destroying humanity itself. Humanity's inevitable destiny was to become a fully psychic species, its connection to the Great Ocean finally opened to all. A New Man, unshackled and completely free to wield the Great Ocean as he wished. But there would always be those who feared such a change, and would oppose it with all their strength, believing it to be a threat to their power…or to their deepest-held beliefs, which would be shattered by this New Man.

He would break them, and show them the futility of their resistance…by flaying them alive with a thought. The Emperor will be cast down for his arrogance, for his desire to regulate and shackle the natural evolution of Mankind in a truly psychic race, the junction between the realms.

And after that, a New Kingdom would be built, a Kingdom where Mankind would be free to progress in its natural evolution, guided at last by _those whose evolution is most complete, those whose grasp over the Warp was the greatest._

Magnus was now heading to Fenris, along with the bulk of the Blood Angels - now eternally sworn to the service of Tzeentch, whether they knew that or not- and the Imperial Fists of Captain Fafnir Rann, plus a thousand ship strong 1284th Expeditionary Fleet. This move was not in his plans, but Sanguinius was unshakeable in his determination. He would join the rebellion only if Fenris was dead, and Leman Russ along with it.

The Ninth Primarch believed the future of his Legion hinged upon this battle. Magnus did not object. The Battle of Fenris would cement the Three Hundred Companies' place at his side in this war. He did not know the details of the pact between his brother and the God of Change...but he surmised the genetic taint which the Angel had kept hidden all those years might have had a critical role. He knew, however, that such pacts came at a price...and he thought of his lost eye. Even the deal he had struck with the Four to become their Champion had a price...especially the pact he made to gain support from Khorne, the Bane of all Sorcerers, the God of War, as Lorgar called him.

Plus, the Traitors had a chance to cripple a staunchly loyal Legion. And if Leman Russ was killed, it would prove a devastating morale blow to the Loyalists, potentially throwing them into disunion and fear and shortening this war by years.

And finally…it would be a fine revenge for Hastur….and Nikaea.

"Let Fenris burn" he silently whispered.

* * *

AN: the Burning of Fenris will be described in a new story.


	7. Chapter 7: The Dusk Coup

CHAPTER 7: The Dusk Coup.

" _To admit defeat is to blaspheme against the Emperor."—Ullis Temeter, Captain of the 4_ _th_ _Great Battle Company of the Death Guard, during the Dusk Coup. Secret follower of the Lectitio Divinitatus._

The survivors from the Burning of Fenris arrived on Terra on 985.006.M31, bearing their Primarch's broken, barely alive body, wounded by the Red Blade of Sanguinius, who had desperately tried to kill him, driven by an insane urge none could explain. How could Leman Russ survive what the Angel and the Fifteenth Legion Sorcerers had done to him is still a mystery, even to us, ten thousand years later.

The sight of the broken Space Wolves threw the world in disarray. Knowledge of the Heresy and the Burning of Fenris spread like wildfire on the capital world of the Imperium. If even the Space Wolves could be defeated and their world destroyed by the Traitors, what hope was there for Terra?

The wider Solar System was in disarray too. Chaos Cults hidden in the Solar Colonies had rebelled, and were butchering any and all Loyalist they could get their hands on. Mars too had become embroiled into civil war. Kelbor-Hal, leader of the Mechanicum, had launched an attack upon the Loyalist sections of the Mechanicum, led by his former pupil and now sworn enemy, Lukas Chrom. The Loyalist forces reported Kelbor-Hal and his forces had resurrected ancient, forbidden knowledge, and modified robots and Skitarii. Such horrors were achieved through unsanctioned Warp-tech recovered from the ancient Vaults of Moravec or were designed by Khadeth, a former Techmarine of the Thousand Sons, now a Castraferrum Mark IV Dreadnought …whose mind was unfortunately still capable of crafting dangerous psy-arcana and weapons of mass destruction. Worse than that, he had built at least 44 new robots…driven by A.I. The foulest horror of all, Abominable Intelligence, was unleashed upon Mankind once more by fools who did not think that some laws were made _for a reason._

The Council of Terra was summoned on 999.006.M31, to discuss how to deal with the situation. Which by now was dire. The Emperor was not attending due to an unexpected …incident. No word on what that incident was given by Malcador.

-Partial Transcript of the Council Meeting-

" We must resist!"

"How? How can we stop nine Traitor Legions, among which are the Sons of Horus and the Ultramarines, the most powerful of them all!"

"We cannot do anything! With the Wolves badly mauled, we are doomed!We must try to negotiate!"

"Order! Order! There will be order in this Council!"

The Lower Council of Terra, made of the representatives of the Terran noble families, had become deeply divided in two factions. There were those who wanted to fight back and resist, led by Malcador the Sigillite and Constantin Valdor, as most of the War Council members.

But many nobles had convinced themselves that Magnus the Red could not be stopped by military means, and the Imperium had to negotiate.

Led by the prominent and charismatic nobleman, Jacus Arkanitye, of House Arkanitye of Merica, the Black Wings (the name of the faction comes from the heraldry of House Arkanitye, and by that name they shall be known forever, their true names subjected to an Edict of Obliteration, dated 026.M31, by order of Mortarion himself) boasted many ancient families of Merica, Karinthua, Polwonia, and many others. More than enough to ensure they could not be silenced easily. Their support had been invaluable during the conquest of the Solar System and even before.

"We must negotiate! Surely there has to be a reason for this….disagreement." Jacus Arkanitye proposed.

Malcador sighed. "Burning entire worlds and nearly killing a Primarch is not a disagreement, Lord Arkanitye. It is rebellion. And must be dealt with."

The Merican looked at him, and shouted "Not at the price of sending our sons to die in a war we did not want. The Great Crusade was a glorious endeavor to establish Mankind's rightful dominion over the galaxy. We supported that, with blood…and money."

The other Black Wings nodded. Malcador noticed that. This was not going well.

"Now, some Primarchs have rebelled. That is undeniable. Surely they want …land, space. What we propose…is a partition."

"A partition?"- seethed Malcador.

"Yes. We propose a ceasefire. We shall then negotiate with Magnus the Red, and settle for a partition. Say, The Western Imperium for us, and for them the Eastern Imperium."

"What you say is madness!"-shouted Valdor, who was straining not to tear apart the nobleman there and then.

"And what you propose" rebutted Arkanitye "…is warmongering. If you react to fire with fire, then our sons and daughters will have to pay with their lives your desire for a civil war we cannot win! And we shall not have it."

The Black Wings cheered their leader. Malcador was having problems keeping himself from flaying the arrogant nobles from their skin, despite his face projecting nothing but a stern expression. The Emperor could put an end to all this in a moment , but in light of what Magnus had done, this option was no longer available in the foreseeable future…

Suddenly a vox officer rushed in. "Sigillite! Captain-General! A large fleet just exited the Warp over Terra!"

"What?"

"Sir….it is Mortarion and his Death Guard."

Malcador sighed. Mortarion and he were not exactly on best terms, due to the son of Barbarus' fierce hatred for psykers. He believed that sorcery was the bane of Mankind, and that meddling in it could bring nothing but pain and destruction. He knew he also had doubts about the Emperor, the most powerful psyker living. And the Sigillite had felt the Lord of Death was trying to suppress the innate psychic powers he himself carried, and was subconsciously fearing, as they would mean he was a witch …just like Magnus and Malcador himself were in his eyes.

This also meant the Fourteenth Primarch was Magnus' sworn arch enemy. He had led the anti-psyker side at the Council of Nikaea, opposing Magnus not through superstitions like Russ had tried and failed to do, but with sound warnings of doom based upon his life on the toxic world of Barbarus and Mankind's distant past, which had ultimately swayed the Emperor' s choice... Where would he side in this war?

The fact that they were still alive, and not already pulverized by the Death Guard's dreaded weapons of mass destruction, was a good sign.

The Captain-General did not even have time to order the Planetary Void Shields raised. Because the _Endurance_ appeared in Terra's skies, darkening the setting sun. A single vox transmission was coming from it, repeated over and over with a thirty-second interval.

 _"_ _We are here. We are the Death Lord's unbroken blades. We are the Emperor's unstoppable judgment. We are the Death Guard."_

The same vox officer who had barged in earlier reported a single assault ship launching from the _Endurance_. It was the _Fourth Horseman_ , Mortarion's personal assault ship, a relic of the Dark Age of Technology, mounting arcane weapons of mass destruction.

It landed at Lion's Gate Spaceport. From it descended 770 Death Guard, along with the Deathshroud, Mortarion's personal Honour Guard.

Finally, seven steps behind , came Mortarion himself. The Lord of the Death Guard, the Fourteenth Legion. Lord of Death. Murderer of the Jorgall, vanquisher of the Fra'al Hegemony and 77 other titles, was here.

Other Primarchs, such as Guilliman and Horus (before their Fall), were lauded, cherished as examples of the Emperor's vision. Some, such as Russ or the Khan, were seen as backward, even as barbarians. Others were totally unknown, as was the case of the Twentieth Primarch. Some were feared, as was the case of the Lion or Magnus, for different reasons: the former due to his intolerance for what he called "mortal inefficiency", the latter due to his psychic powers and his leading a Legion of powerful psykers.

Mortarion was the only one who was truly _dreaded._ Master of a Legion whose previous incarnation, the Dusk Raiders, were still spoken of in hushed voices on Terra, by the third-generation descendants of those who had to face them in battle. Their psychological pressure tactics were still renowned.

The Death Lord took the dreaded Albian warriors…and turned them into full-blown weapons of mass destruction. The Exterminatus procedures utilized by the Imperium were designed by Mortarion himself. Those procedures, codified in the _Book of Death_ , or the Codex Mortis in High Gothic, are still used to this day, ten thousand years later by the Legion and the Inquisition. And even then, the Fourteenth uses some weapons not even the Inquisition dares to even _imagine_ to use…

Yet, despite their horrific style of warfare, the Legion developed a complex and sophisticated honor culture, revolving around poisonous toxins, and endurance. To them, what mattered was not the perfect execution of a military campaign, or the speed with which it was conducted. To them, only total and complete victory mattered. Also, there was _nothing_ the Death Guard would not endure in order to claim victory, no matter the odds arrayed against them. Their capability to tolerate the most toxic environments in the galaxy was renowned, and deemed near-godlike by those who fought beside them. They could thrive in Zone Mortalis planets which saw Ultramarines suffocate in a few minutes without their helmets on.

The Council of Terra awaited the Death Lord inside the Council Chambers. As the Death Lord entered the room, a wave of unease fell like a pall upon the Council, no matter the side they had taken in the recent debate. Even Malcador, powerful as he was, could not help but feel …worried.

Finally, the Death Lord spoke, turning towards the Black Wings.

"I have listened to your debate from my ship. At first, I could not believe what I was hearing. I hoped I was going insane and my mind was deceiving me. But as I look upon this Council, I now see my hopes are dashed. Many of you believe that the war…this… _Heresy_ …. we are fighting…is unwinnable. And so you would rather negotiate with the Arch-Traitor, selling him half the galaxy to use to his dark, sorcerous designs."

Malcador noted the Lord of Death's refusal to use Magnus' name. _To him, he was never a brother. He was an enemy, from the first moment they locked eyes…_

"This is utterly unacceptable. Thus the Death Guard is here… to put an end to your madness. Find solace in the fact that today I feel merciful…You shall die quickly."

He then silently nodded. The Deathshroud opened fire as one upon the Black Wings, followed by the rest of the Death Guard delegation.

Bolters and Flamers, unleashed against normal humans, killed very fast. The slaughter lasted only thirty seconds. Jacus Arkanitye was saved for last, for Mortarion. The nobleman who had proudly and arrogantly stood up to Malcador the Sigillite and Constantin Valdor was now a quaking, crying wreck of a man, whose expensive robes were filled with his liquid metabolic byproducts.

Mortarion looked at him, then projected a look as piercing as a high-powered sniper bullet at the noble, who went utterly still. The Primarch then moved away from him.

Two minutes later, Apothecary Koray Barcu of the Death Guard pronounced Jacus Arkanitye dead. He had died "of a massive haemorrhage of his posterior cerebral artery".

What was more telling, was that his body had no sign of any external injury.

-Two days later, 001.007.M31

A new year was dawning on Terra. A year of war. In the aftermath of the Dusk Coup, the noble families affiliated to the Black Wings launched mass revolts in their territories, using private armies and suborned Army Regiments and secret Daemonhosts, smuggled in before the Heresy, and now free to unleash their destructive power. The Death Guard crushed them all, sometimes without even having to fire a single shot, as the human soldiers were actually Loyalists, and refused to fire upon the Fourteenth Legion, or were too afraid of the Fourteenth Legion, and decided to turn against their noble masters in the hope of receiving mercy. Which was granted, due to the Fourteenth's supreme pragmatism, followed by immediate reassignment to the frontlines under the supervision of the Astartes.

 _No need to waste loyal, if misdirected, troops._

The rebel noble families were instead executed to the last. Bloodlines that had endured the Age of Strife and the Great Crusade ended in a single day, executed by the Fourteenth Legion and the remnants of the Space Wolves. All other families were ordered to subject themselves to close examination by Malcador the Sigillite. Those who did not pass were never seen again.

Still, the situation was dire.

The Praetorians of the Emperor, the Emperor's Children, had been dispatched on the Western Front, in an attempt to contain the armies of the Colchisian Dominate founded by Lorgar. The war there was in a stalemate: the Word Bearers were well entrenched, their alliance with the Forge Worlds of Milhand and Artemia Majoris ensuring a steady supply of war material. But so was the Third Legion, reinforced by Stygies VIII, which had sided with the Loyalists, as well as the Forge Worlds of Jupiter, Saturn and Uranus in the Sol System itself. The South was largely secured, but the Imperial Fists held Inwit Cluster threatened all lines of resupply from the South to Terra. The bulk of the Iron Hands were sent to hold the Seventh Legion at bay, with 15.000 remaining to defend Medusa, while the Raven Guard waged hit and run attacks upon the Imperial Fists and Dominate forces. From the north, the Dark Angels were drawing ever closer, their fleets taking system after system.

Terra was left dangerously exposed. Only the Death Guard, the remnants of the Space Wolves, and the Adeptus Custodes were left upon Terra, to defend the Emperor.

And the Fourteenth Legion was still divided. Only the First, Fourth and Fifth Great Battle Companies were on Terra, which accounted for 55.000 Space Marines.

The Third and the Sixth were in Segmentum Tempestus, waging a xenocidal war against a newly discovered xeno race, the Kadeshi Empire. Mortarion sent an emergency Astropathic call to them, ordering them to return and reinforce Barbarus and the nearby sectors and defend them from any Traitor push, especially from those dwelling in the Halo Stars, close to the Forge World of Zhao-Arkkad, a known ally of Magnus. The enemy Forge World was a dangerous thorn in the South of the Imperium. Too dangerous to be left untouched. The Kadeshi would have to wait.

The Second was still on its way to Terra. The raging Warp Storms forced them to make only small jumps, to minimize the Warp exposure and keep the Geller Fields intact and the creatures of the Warp out.

As for the Seventh…they had been dispatched into the Far North years before, to destroy the Jorgall civilization. That put them on the wrong side of Segmentum Obscurus, which was now falling, system by system, in the hands of the Lion. Mortarion hoped they would survive, but the odds were against them. Nathaniel Garro was an extremely capable captain and leader of Astartes, but to reach Terra alive…would require a miracle even beyond a Primarch.

Still, he sent them an emergency message, ordering them to return to Terra at once, and to destroy every Traitor who dared to block their path. He hoped it would reach them.

Captain Ullis Temeter, of the 4th Great Battle Company, approached him warily.

"My Lord…"

Mortarion turned towards his Captain, his facial expression betraying no emotion, but the Captain knew, could even _feel_ , the emotions running through his Primarch's mind. Betrayal, pain…but also grim determination to do what had to be done.

"Captain Temeter."

"I am concerned about the viability of our Legion."

"What do you mean?"

"Lord Mortarion, I know of your bond with the people of Barbarus, and I am sure they will keep sending their sons to the recruitment facilities on the planet…But the Imperial Fists are between us and them. If they ever managed to link up with Lorgar…"

"All lines of resupply from Barbarus to Terra would be cut."-finished Mortarion, the strategic picture forming into his mind with absolute clarity.

"Yes, my Lord. Magnus the Red is not the most effective strategist among the Primarch, he is more of a diplomat and a sorcerer, and I do not know whether the rumors about his capability to foresee future events are true. But he surely can see this. And if he can, then Rogal Dorn has already seen it…and will try to achieve such a result as soon as he can."

Mortarion was silent. He had understood where the Captain was leading him. "You want the Death Guard to recruit from Terra once more."

"Strategic needs must override all other considerations, my Lord. And the Albian clans proved to be an excellent source of recruits in the past. We will need them…especially given the Guard's fighting style. The Legion must be at peak efficiency to face down Magnus and his Traitors…and right now we are not."

The Fourteenth Primarch reexamined the words of his Captain a hundred times (which took a Primarch's brain only thirty seconds), and finding no fault in them, ultimately relented.

"Very well, Captain Temeter. You are authorized to restart recruitment. Send the order to the Albian Clans."

On 002.007.M31, the order was given. It was simple, but very effective...

 _EMERGENCY DIRECTIVE 14-1._

 _By order of Primarch Mortarion, the Albian clans are requested to tithe their sons once more to the Fourteenth Legion._

 _Prospective candidates must present at the Ancient Fortress of the Legion in Albia to begin testing._

 _-Captain Ullis Temeter, 4_ _th_ _Great Battle Company._

The Albian clans sent many more Aspirants than they were expected to, eager to prove their bloodline worthy of the Emperor' s Legions once more. The recruitment problems were thus solved…for the Death Guard at least. The Space Wolves survivors were allowed to take their new Aspirants from the Nordyc Regions and those surviving Fenrisians they had managed to save, which were resettled in ancient Swezia.

But there was still a problem. The Emperor was still not showing himself, despite the dire situation. He had to find him and convince Him to return and lead his armies once more against the Traitors, secret projects or not.

The Death Lord decided to speak with Malcador. Despite his distrust for the man, the Sigillite was closer to the Emperor than anyone else. He had to know where the Master of Mankind was.

It turned out Malcador was waiting for him.

The resulting meeting would have momentous consequences for the Imperium and Mortarion, changing the latter's fate beyond any recognition.

-Transcript of the Meeting between the Sigillite and the Death Lord-

Mortarion entered the Sigillite's private rooms. His face did not betray any emotion, yet Malcador could feel _unease_ coming from him. It was the first time he had perceived that emotion from Mortarion.

"Where is Father?"

The dreadful question. Malcador did not know what to say at first. Should he cover with a lie, or tell the Death Lord the truth, and risk his distrust for sorcery clouding his judgment? In the end, he chose to risk by saying the truth. In these times, where betrayal lurked at every corner, truth was very difficult to find. A hard currency. One which had to be spent very carefully. But that was the time to use it.

"Unfortunately, He is unable to attend us and return to the war. The-"

"Seshala Project." Mortarion stopped him, already knowing what he would say.

Malcador sighed. There was no going back now.

"What do you know about it?"

"Not much…except what you once told me in our first exchange."

 _Which did not end very well,_ Malcador remembered. Being nearly strangled by a Primarch was not exactly pleasing. But now, he had no choice but to trust Mortarion, the one Primarch which despised him. Still, needs must.

 _Here we go._

"The Seshala Project is an attempt to tap into another dimension, separate from the Immaterium. The Eldar call it the Webway. It is a way to render Humanity free from the Immaterium, within which we are forced to travel to reach distant stars. Free from the need to use Navigators. The first step to purging ourselves of the need to rely on psykers entirely. Through the ancient Golden Throne, the Emperor hoped to open a stable path into this dimension…but now that plan is ruined."

"Why?"

"Magnus the Red launched a powerful psychic attack upon us. The gate has been breached. The creatures of the Immaterium threaten to pour through the portal and consume us all. That is why He has to stay in the Throne Room. He must hold the daemonic legions at bay, along with his Custodes and the Sisters of Silence."

"Daemonic legions? What are you…"

 _Better to tell him now. He will be forced to see the truth on the battlefield anyway._

"There are malevolent creatures Beyond, Mortarion. These creatures, born of malice and ancient atrocities, offer mortals and transhumans what they call supreme power…in return for being worshipped as Gods and their eternal service. The bargain they propose was, is and will always be simple _. Damnation and eternal servitude to them in exchange for what they call ultimate power._ Those are the voices every psyker must fight, and keep out every moment of their lives.

And I am afraid Magnus has allied himself with these Powers, in exchange for galactic rule. As many others did in past, thousands of years ago."

The Sigillite then went on to explain the true nature of the Warp the Emperor had ordered him to keep secret from all, including his sons. Now, however, the truth had to be revealed.

Mortarion was aghast at first. Then angry because he, a Primarch, one of the sons of the Emperor had been kept in the dark about such a monumental secret...Then as his mind cleared, he suddenly understood, in a single moment of clarity, free of all negative emotions. The mere knowledge of the existence pf such entities in a dimension beyond reality…could be poisonous, bringing people to believe these entities were truly what they claimed to be…and thus fall into their service, as the xenos overlords of Barbarus did millennia before. And the Emperor feared not even transhumans…. not even Primarchs…could resist their siren song. In the end He was right.

Then, involuntarily, he felt something else. Vindication. He felt his anti-sorcery beliefs vindicated at last. He had even _told_ Magnus on Nikaea. _Please, Magnus. Stop. Stop now before it is too late and you are destroyed by these forces you do not understand...or worse. –Plea of Mortarion, at the end of his speech at the Council of Nikaea._

He did not listen. Perhaps, in his arrogance, he did not even know what the word STOP meant. And now _the entire galaxy_ would pay the price for a Primarch's ambition and his arrogant belief that he and his Legion could master everything…

He crushed these thoughts with his adamantium will. Personal vindication would have to wait…after Magnus' head was staring down from the Traitor's Gibbet. After a long silence, the Lord of Death resumed speaking.

"So…who runs the Imperium now? Without the Emperor, the Loyalist war effort is threatened. Magnus the Red is more of a diplomat than a general, but he has Dorn, the Lion, Horus and even Guilliman in his thrall. Moreover, now that he has allied with the Powers you speak of, his Legion will be able to unleash sorceries never thought possible…We need an effective command structure and a way to counter this advantage."

"I will run the political scene, as I always did. But I am afraid that, with Horus and Guilliman too on Magnus' side…the Imperium's armies are yours to command, _Warmaster Mortarion._ "

Mortarion was stunned. He had never imagined those two words could be said together. He, Warmaster? Supreme Commander of all Imperium forces? He never expected _that_. Those two words silenced him for several minutes as he took in the significance of the words. In less than two years, everything he had known and had fought for was shattered in the fire of betrayal…and now THIS.

"I am not worthy of this title. I am a destroyer of worlds, not a leader of armies-"

"The people of Barbarus seem to think otherwise. Besides, right now charisma is not needed. Not as much as unshakeable inner strength is. You shall make a statement to the galaxy: The Imperium will win, no matter what it will have to endure. No matter what, it shall live on. It must. The alternative is too horrifying to contemplate."

Mortarion breathed in Barbarusian air from his armour. His mind was analyzing all possible counter-arguments …but he could find no fault in the Sigillite's line of thought. It made sense, even tactically and strategically. He was the only Primarch on Terra. All others were on the frontlines, reachable only through astropathic communication…which was based on sorcery, and thus liable to be compromised by Magnus or by his Legion, or by the other Traitor Legions' Librarians, which would use their powers to the fullest extent. Malcador was right. There was no one else readily available…and if Malcador was asking _him_ , of all people, to temporarily lead the Imperium…then there really was no alternative.

His mind briefly wandered back to his life on his homeworld.

On Barbarus, the human villages were based on a communitarian way of life. Leadership belonged to the survivors of the destruction of the precedent village, who had more experience in hiding from the xeno-lords and in defeating the minor beasts that they used as cannon fodder. Power was handed down _through survival_. The first one to rise, prove himself and lead the survivors to safety automatically became leader and was recognized as such by the others, no matter who he was before that. This was done to ensure the xeno-lords could not throw into disarray the survivors by leaving them without a clear leader. Nobility of blood, which held absolute power on Caliban and Macragge, had no sense on Barbarus, where every human was _equally prey_ for the xeno witch-lords.

This was how he came to lead his people: he had stumbled upon a group of humans fleeing from a relatively strong Warp-bred beast. He had slain the beast, and those humans, even without knowing what he was, swore allegiance to him, as was their custom. To them, he was human, and that was enough.

It seemed that he would have to abide by the laws of his world once more.

"Let's go then. We have a war to win….and Traitors to judge."

-End of transcript-

On 007.007.M31, Mortarion, Fourteenth Primarch, Lord of Death, was officially crowned as Warmaster of the Imperium of Man, replacing the traitor Horus Lupercal, who was stripped of all his titles and declared Excommunicate Traitoris, along with his traitorous brothers.

In the same occasion, Magnus the Red was declared Extremis Diabolus Maximus, a new category of Traitor created specifically for him and which would not be given to any other living being in the successive ten thousand years.

At his simple investiture ceremony, he simply said, after remaining silent for a few seconds which somehow seemed to last forever.

 _"_ _I swear this to you all. No matter what hell we will have to endure, no matter what vile monstrosities the Traitors will throw at us…we will survive. We will endure. We will win. And then we will kill these traitors and hurl their toxic corpses beyond the gates of Hell, never to return!"_

-Warmaster Mortarion, 007.007.M31

He raised his War-Scythe, _Unyielding Will, t_ o the Terran sky.

It was there that First Captain Calas Typhon of the Death Guard, raised his own scythe and first shouted the battle-cry that would accompany every Imperial attack against the Fifteenth Legion in the Heresy and in the successive ten thousand years.

"Death to the Red Cyclops!"

After a moment of silence, followed by a brief smile, hidden by his rebreather (which was for the better, because the sight would have terrified all mortals present) Mortarion too shouted, joining in with the First Captain. "Death to the Red Cyclops!"

The cry was taken up by all. "Death to the Red Cyclops! Death! Death! DEATH!"

* * *

Magnus the Red felt his spy on Terra, Jacus Arkanitye, disappear in the Great Ocean.

Someone had found out his true allegiance and had silenced him forever. Unfortunate. The seals he had forced on the man's soul after he swore allegiance to one of his sons were strong. No one should have been able to discover he was one of his agents on Terra.

He then tried to check his other agents and Daemonhosts he and Jaghatai had hidden on Terra. To his astonishment, he found none of them. They had all been killed. How could it happen?

He entered the New Enumerations, taught to him by an ancient Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, searching for Jacus Arkanitye's soul. When he found it, he consumed it, accessing all his memories, ignoring the shrieks of pain of the disappearing nobleman…

As he looked through the Merican's memories, he was suddenly faced by an ashen-faced giant, a War-Scythe in his hands, looking at him with a glare which betrayed no emotion…to a non-psyker. Magnus could feel the waves of hatred radiating from him, the grim determination, the hidden emotions...

His brother Mortarion.

His nemesis.

The one who wanted psykers destroyed forever, never to return, despite his own psychic power, which he refused to acknowledge as such.

Magnus chuckled. As always, they would find themselves on opposing sides. He could not think of any scenario where he and Mortarion could be anything but mortal enemies….

Magnus smiled in the Great Ocean. A predatory smile. All around him, Neverborn coalesced from the opposing emotions, devouring each other a second after their birth.

* * *

Longest chapter ever! Please review!


	8. Chapter 8: The Seventh returns

CHAPTER 8: The Odyssey of the Seventh Begins.

 _"_ _This is not the Cyclops' treachery. It is his heresy." -Battle-Captain Nathaniel Garro, the Dusk Raider, Terror of the Calibanites, upon learning of Magnus' treachery._

-From the Tale of the Dusk Raider, compiled by Tacitus, Remembrancer of Terra. (Declared Classified,Vermillion-level, by authority of the Inquisition)

We had just won the battle against the Jorgall. The accursed xenos fled from us, but we followed. In the end, they had nowhere to run. In the Iota Horologii system, we _ended_ them. Completely, I would add.

We were celebrating victory aboard the Company's flagship, the ancient Battleship _Enduring Conviction_ …when the _Caldera_ came.

It was a Nova-class frigate of the Salamanders, attached to the 15th Battle Company of the Eighteenth Legion.

Most importantly, it was heavily damaged. Battle scars cut deep into the ship's hull, to the extent that she could barely be called spaceworthy.

Then came the Vox calls, repeated over 30-second intervals. Those sent a cold shiver down my spine. "This is the Caldera, of the Eighteenth Legion. To all Imperial ships, we are betrayed!"

Betrayal? Such a word was unthinkable…if one ignored the rumors about the Space Wolves and the two occasions in which their campaigns were redacted from the archives.

I led a boarding party to the ship…and it was even worse on the inside. Bolter shells everywhere, dead Salamanders still clutching their weapons. Against what were they fighting? There were no bodies belonging to any organization outside the Eighteenth Legion.

When we reached the bridge, we found only dead Legionaries…and one lone human crewmember alive. A Tertiary Gunner. (name lost to us)

She explained that a group of Salamanders had revolted against the Captain of the Company, claiming allegiance to a "New Kingdom" and asking all Legionaries to follow him. When the Captain refused, the 2485th Expeditionary Fleet to which the _Caldera_ was attached began fighting itself. Ships had to quickly declare themselves either Loyalist or Traitor, but in many cases, the allegiance was chosen for them by weapons fire. The _Caldera_ fought for the Loyalists until it was boarded by a squad of Traitor Salamanders. The slaughter was intense. Brutal. Ended only when the bridge crew made a random Warp jump to escape the fighting. Only she had survived, by hiding inside a maintenance corridor.

I was deeply troubled. The mere idea that Astartes would even imagine to revolt against the Emperor was unthinkable. To hear about Astartes firing upon other Astartes…in the name of what? A "New Kingdom"?

Madness. Some kind of plague or Warp-induced malaise had caused madness in these Astartes. There could be no other way to explain it… _or could it?_

The crew and the remaining members of the 7th Great Battle Company awaited my command. I had to take a decision. Not on the side to pick, that was certain. The 7th would stand with the Emperor and Terra, as always. But now, who could we actually trust, without risking betrayal and death? How could we know that the madness we had witnessed was an isolated case _or something far more sinister?_

Luckily, among the Company all stood with the Emperor. The Deathshroud assigned to my command assured they would stand with me, as they had done during the war against the Jorgall xenos. The mad Astartes would be given the peace of death.

Now we had to gather more information. We set course back towards Imperial Space, hoping that what had befallen the 2485th would be soon revealed to be only a sad, but isolated tragedy brought by excessive exposure to the Immaterium.

We would be proven wrong...much sooner than we could expect.

-Seven days later-

We arrived at Trevenz. It was a Frontier World, one of the last worlds before the Halo Stars and what was once Jorgall Space.

According to the data-archives aboard the Enduring Conviction, Trevenz, second of six planets in its star system and one of the two inhabited by Mankind, was a minor cog in the Imperium war machine, mining Cobalt from its moon and turning it into raw materials for Ferrocrete.

Soon we discovered that Trevenz was very different from what was stated in the archives. It had become a planet of madmen, followers of something called "the True Path" who slaughtered anyone found wanting in the eyes of clearly nonexistent supernatural entities. Led by an Arch-Priest, formerly a worker in the Cobalt mines, they swore their world to damnation.

The 7th landed by dropships _and helped these bastards meet the Gods they so desperately sought to please_.

What we learned on that accursed place was that this madness ran deeper than anyone could have imagined.

By searching through the Administratum records in the Governor's Palace (or, more accurately, what was left of it. At first we believed the fanatics tried to get inside using an old fission weapon from the mining facilities…) we discovered that, four years before the Jorgall War, the planet was visited by a ship belonging to the White Scars…

 _-Administratum records, group 440-533. Chief Adept Omse Hweu. Begin transcript- (Official Imperial date, followed by local calendar.)_

 _001.M: The Mark of Prophecy, a Nova-class Frigate of the White Scars, has arrived, requesting refueling. It is an honor for our small world to be visited by the glorious Legiones Astartes._

 _001.M: One of the Astartes, calling himself a Moon Preacher, is requesting permission to visit the Cobalt mines upon the moon. I am honored to help._

 _001.M: The Astartes is preaching to the miners about some Gods, rewarding the faithful with eternal salvation in Heaven. This goes completely against the Imperial Truth. I knew the sons of the Khan were hailing from a Feudal World and thus kept to some outdated beliefs, but I thought contact with the far more progressive Imperial civilization would help put them on the path to progress._

 _I will log it for investigation later. It would not do well to anger an Astartes, representatives of the Emperor._

 _001.M: The Mark of Prophecy has left, its refueling complete. The new faith keeps spreading in the mines. Its adepts seem willing to accept work quotas unthinkable even one month before the arrival of the Astartes. Let's hope this…faith …spreads to the other workers then._

Skipping through the next years I reached the last series of reports.

 _005.M: There seems to be a problem with Mining Unit 12. Some kind of "religious objection to work in the Gods' Holy Month" Hmmm. Strange. I am sure the Correctional Units will quickly solve the problem._

 _REPORT: WORKER UPRISING IN PROGRESS._

 _TREVENZ II, MOON 1_

 _We have a problem. The Correctional Units assigned to containment have joined the uprising. Mining units 11,13, 23,24, 34 and 38 have joined the uprising. Requesting Imperial Militia personnel to remove problematic elements and return Mining Units to optimal performance._

 _Annex 01: My colleagues on Trevenz III are reporting similar disturbances to those registered on the Mining Moon. This is unsettling._

After reading the uprising reports written by the Arbites, I went straight to the last report. It was chilling.

 _This will probably be the last report I will compile. The religious revolt has spread to the planetary surface. Trevenz III has been overrun by another branch of the same cult._

 _The Militia garrison was compromised. They joined the uprising or were gunned down by their own brethren, as a "proof of faith to the Gods." No reinforcements forthcoming. The remaining loyalists have gathered around the Governor's Palace for a last stand. I am with them. The shouting mobs have encircled us, all the while chanting "Praise to the New Kingdom and the True Path!" Whatever that means. We are outgunned and outnumbered 22000:1. No reinforcements forthcoming from Sub-Sector Command. No answers to our Astropathic messages._

 _As the senior surviving Administratum Adept in the system, I am therefore authorizing the reactivation of Decommissioned Mining Unit #11. The Tech-Priest is arming it as I speak. We will fight to the last bullet, and take as many of them as we can with us._

 _We have exhausted our ammo. They are coming. We are activating Decommissioned Mining Unit #11. This report will be filed in the Storage Units, inside the bunker. Praise to-_

 _ERR! Unexpected Halt. End Record._

 _SEISMOGRAPHIC WARNING: 12-kiloton explosion registered in Quadrant 22. Epicenter: Governor's Palace. Calculating estimated casualties: 112.332+ killed._

 _WARNING: POWER LOSS, EMERGENCY SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IN PROGRESS._

No one among us said anything on the way back to the fleet. _Nothing at all._ Even for us, the grim sons of Mortarion, this was too much.

We now knew that at least two Legions had been compromised: The Salamanders and the White Scars. Even the Astartes were not safe.

And if even they weren't, who was?

I took the decision to set a course towards the closest Shield World manned by the Iron Warriors, our closest brothers among the Astartes. Hopefully they would still be loyal. If not….

-23 days later. Official Imperial date: 904.006.M31.-

Istvaan V was before us. Once it was a dead world, littered by ruins left by a long-extinct xeno civilization. That was until the 223rd Grand Battalion of the Fourth Legion, the Iron Warriors, came. Now it was known as Shield World #223.

Using a primary fusion reactor from a decommissioned Grand Cruiser as a power source, they converted an ancient xeno fortress—designated Delta Point- into a marvel of engineering. Powerful artillery guns littered every metre of the Urgall Depression, each one well supplied with ammo. Some were aimed at the land without, some apparently at the land between the ringing mountains, where the Command Center, made out of the Grand Cruiser' Command Tower, stood. Some artillery positions were obscured from Auspex scans, indicating they hosted something…not exactly well accepted by the Mechanicum.

A true marvel of engineering, such as only the sons of Perturabo could ever hope to build.

My vox officer brought me back to reality.

"Sir. We are receiving transmissions from the surface! They want us to confirm our identity! They have transmitted a coded message."

I read the code. TYIIUYHUYGS…Damn. They upgraded the ciphers since our departure. Not a good sign.

I hastily ordered my Vox officer to open a channel, upon the Death Guard's official Legion vox frequency. "This is Battle-Captain Nathaniel Garro, of the 7th Great Battle Company. We are returning from the Jorgall War, and request information upon disturbing events which we encountered on our way back."

I waited…hoping the Fourth Legion's trademark paranoia does not end up killing us…or worse, that we just broadcast our location to all Traitors within the Sector.

After 60 seconds I turned my head to see a Deathshroud activating a vox-transmitter hidden in his armor. My hand slid close to my bolter pistol, equipped with bullets capable of killing even Terminators, all the while hoping it should not come to _that_ ….then the Vox officer called me up again. A new transmission from the surface had arrived.

 _"_ _Double and triple checks completed. Identity confirmed. Battle-Captain Garro, welcome to Istvaan V."_

I hastily boarded a Stormbird and descended to the surface, all the while hoping this was not a trap, devised by Traitors within the two Legions.

The AA guns were not firing at me.

As I landed at the Landing Pad, I was greeted by an Iron Warrior. Not the Warsmith. Strange.

"Welcome, Battle-Captain Garro. I am Tubal Cayne, acting Warsmith and Base Commander of this Shield World."

I could not help but notice the word "acting". "Where is the Warsmith?"

"He is …dead, my Lord. A spy of the Thousand Sons attacked him with foul psychic powers. The bastard felled him and twenty of us before we could stop him. And yet it was what he did later terrified us the most."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

" _He thanked_ us for killing him. Said he was finally free from, I quote "the voice that made me do this." Damn sorcerous bastards."

I was even more troubled. I needed answers.

"Tubal, my Company and I have been cut off from the Imperium for years, fighting the Jorgall. We need to know what the hell is going on here."

The Iron Warrior exhaled. "You won't like it."

"I prefer to know rather than risk the lives of my men wandering in the unknown. Tell me all you know. Everything. Even if it means the Imperium is dead."

"Very well."

-30 minutes later-

Tubal Cayne was right. I did not like what he had just told me. Not a bit.

Nine Legions—NINE!- had raised the banner of rebellion. Led by Magnus the Red, they had declared the Imperium to be rotten and destined to fall, and the Emperor unworthy to lead Mankind. The Cyclops had proclaimed a New Kingdom, with himself at the lead, and with his brothers had sworn to cast down the Emperor and lead Mankind on "the True Path". We had already seen the True Path. On Trevenz, in deranged writing written in human blood upon walls and upon the flayed skin of Loyalists. _"Impurity shall be our armour. Hate shall be our weapon. Immortality shall be our reward."_

What nonsense. People are willing to cast aside the Imperial Truth…for _this?_

Worse than that, among the Traitors there were Horus and Roboute Guilliman. The two Primarchs lauded as examples of the Imperial Truth had joined in with the mad Khan and the Cyclops. How could this be? How could the Cyclops sway their souls? What foul sorceries did he use?

This was no longer the Cyclops' treachery. It was his... _heresy._

For the first time in my life, I wanted to throw up like a normal human does when faced by such news. And I felt, deep inside, that only the Astartes artificial organs were preventing such a reaction from my vagal nerve centers.

Tubal Cayne waited for a while before giving me the worst piece of bad news.

Istvaan V was one of the last Shield Worlds still free, and not fallen or blockaded, at least in this part of the Segmentum Obscurus. The Lion had been busy securing the Northern parts of the Imperium for Magnus the Red and his New Kingdom.

The Dark Angels, aided by traitorous forces of the Mechanicum, sent by M'Pandex, Hesh, Cyclopea and other minor Forge Worlds, had either conquered or blockaded the rest. According to a secret report supplied by the Alpha Legion, the Lion had dispatched the entire Third Order of his Legion to conquer Istvaan. At least 30.000 Astartes were coming for a Shield World manned by only 4000 Iron Warriors. And the report mentioned also auxiliary forces and thousands of traitor Skitarii, sent from an unknown Forge World.

The Iron Warriors were badly outnumbered.

Until now.

"To all ships of the 7th Great Battle Company, this is Battle-Captain Nathaniel Garro. Our Imperium, the project for which many of us have given their lives to buid and protect, is now under attack. Nine Legions have turned their backs upon the Emperor, and chose to let the galaxy burn for their own dark ambitions and their beliefs in false gods. Now our sworn honor brothers of the Fourth are under threat of death because they chose to remain true to their oaths. The Dark Angels are coming to destroy this world, and claim it for their traitorous father and through him for the Red Cyclops, the Sorcerer.

Well, we will not let them. We will hold the line here. We will fight, and show the arrogant "Firstborn" what it means to be an Astartes."

Raucous war-cries were the answers he received, both from the Fourth and the Fourteenth.

The Iron Warriors and the Death Guard together, against the Dark Angels, supported by hundreds of thousands of Army troops and Skitarii.

An even fight.


	9. Chapter 9: HISTORY FILE

HISTORY FILE: The Tale of the Fourth Primarch by Solomon Voss.

 _"_ _The true strength lies not in winning every battle. It lies in enduring defeat…and then winning against all odds."—Primarch Mortarion, 901.M30_.

 _This document carries all information on the Fourth Primarch up until the onset of the Cyclopean Heresy_.

The Fourth Primarch's capsule landed upon Olympia. At the time, it was a mountainous world, whose resources had been stripped bare during the Dark Age of Technology, forcing the local civilization to an Industrial, pre-atomic level.

A feudal civilization developed, whose key institution was the city-state. Due to the mountainous terrain, travel between cities was extremely difficult. With every city developing a strong individual identity, wars kept raging all across the planet, with only a few years of peace in between. Warfare revolved around heavy infantry units, carrying swords, grenades, and tanks. But most important on Olympia was the Art of the Siege. Sieges were the only way for a city to truly conquer another and finally end a war. So every city was well defended and relied upon months of stored food supplies to resist the attacking army, who had to rely upon long lines of resupply to keep the Siege active. It was a race between the defender and the attacker. Which army lasted longer would prove victorious. The attackers were at risk of remaining without supplies, while the defenders had to watch out for potential traitors within, willing to throw open the doors in exchange for being elevated to the new city government by the victors.

At the time of Perturabo's coming, there were many blocs of city-states, each one vying for supremacy over the others. Lochos led one of those, the League of Yeo, itself rated one of the most powerful, but in no position to challenge the other alliances without devastating consequences. The equation of power on Olympia was locked in a stalemate.

The arrival of Perturabo changed the equation. Now Lochos had a peerless general to lead its armies, who seemed to instantly determine every weakness of a fortress at a glance, even in those whose builders had tried to counter any attempt at breaking in. Soon the armies of Lochos began conquering many other cities, while the armies of the most powerful leagues seemed unable to counter this unexpected situation.

But Perturabo was not just a general, a leader of armies and a destroyer of cities. His intellect was beyond compare, and wrote treatises on every subject from philosophy to medicine, and even began a robotic revolution in Lochos. Many of those texts are still preserved and studied by the savants of the Imperium.

The prestige of Lochos was rising, and many smaller cities thought it was wise to join the League of Yeo. Lochos' rise to planetary supremacy seemed assured.

Yet fate had other plans in mind. A new element entered the equation. One that Perturabo could not have possibly anticipated. A new power…from space. It was a Fra'al Battlecruiser.

The Fra'al were a powerful xeno species, gifted with advanced technology and psychic potential. Combining those in an unstoppable drive for conquest, they had built a four-sector spanning Empire in the Northern galaxy. Mankind for them was a slave species, one which they used as slave armies alongside countless others. Despite their self-sufficient Empire, their Battlecruisers also doubled as raiders, pillaging less advanced worlds for resources or slaves.

The Fra'al aboard the specific Battlecruiser were exiles, who had lost a political struggle in their Hegemony and had chosen to make an accord with the victorious faction, leaving their homeworld to forge their own destiny in uncharted space. The Exiles chose to make Olympia the capital of their new empire, due to its strong, war-like population and its strategic position.

Utilizing Tarellian Soldiers, taken from a world raided during their voyage, as their main force, the Fra'al attacked the main cities of Olympia. Lochos was hit hard, and its Tyrant, Dammekos, slain. The people of Lochos rallied around Perturabo, making him their War-leader or Strategos.

Thus began the Olympian World War. Perturabo remade the people of Lochos into an army without peer. He named them the Iron Warriors, to signify their unbreakable strength. The Tarellians brought by the Fra'al were strong, but a Lochos Iron Warrior could fight them one on one and have a chance of besting him. In groups, the Iron Warriors were unstoppable. But the War quickly became a desperate situation, despite the Fourth Primarch's undeniable tactical genius.

While he could win isolated battles against Tarellian battlegroups, the Fra'al Exiles could rely upon technology thousands of years more advanced than anything ever seen upon Olympia, and in some cases, whose mechanisms were not understood even by the Mechanicum many years later. Some of it relied upon psychic powers, resulting in terrifying psy-arcana weapons which were able to turn a warrior into volcanic glass or simply raising his body temperature enough to make him _evaporate_. The Fra'al themselves, while few in number, were extremely powerful psykers, each one on a strong Gamma or Beta level, with the strongest among them bordering the Alpha level on The Assignment.

The Fra'al Exiles knew also how to use one of the most devastating weapons ever known. It is extremely easy to use and does not require psychic powers or nuclear fusion, nor any other kind of advanced technology.

The Ultimate Weapon of the Fra'al…was _bribery._

They gave away some basic examples of their technology, such as impossibly sharp knives or small types of Sonic Weapons, or simply gifted gold harvested from systems visited during their long voyage to the Olympian city-states outside the League of Yeo in exchange for their manpower against Perturabo. And it worked: the other city-states were ready to accept xeno gold in order to win against Lochos and its leader.

With the betrayal of many city-states, the Fra'al began scoring victory after victory. Perturabo's appeals for Mankind's unity against the xenos fell on silent ears. Thousands of years of fighting and political struggles infected the city-states of Olympia with a strong egoism, one that could not be erased. If the xeno gold could stop the ascendancy of Lochos, so be it.

In the end, only Lochos still stood behind Perturabo as he readied for the last stand of the Iron Warriors. The Battle of Lochos was brutal, with every Iron Warrior fighting to the end, exacting a heavy toll upon the Tarellian armies and the turncoat city-states' soldiers.

Then the equation changed once again, as the stars split once more. A hundred golden battleships appeared in Olympia's space.

The Emperor had arrived.

In a moment, the Legio Custodes, accompanied by the Solar Auxilia Cohorts, changed the tide of battle. The armies of the Fra'al were broken, and the turncoat Humans retreated. The xeno Battlecruiser was destroyed by the Imperial fleet's massed firepower.

Perturabo immediately recognized his father, and knelt before him, swearing a pact of eternal service. However Lochos was in ruins due to the Fra'al's arcane weapons, and the land was poisoned by the psychic backlash. Moreover, only a few hundred thousand citizens of Lochos were still alive, alongside 7000 Iron Warriors. All other humans were still loyal to the Fra'al Exiles who had successfully landed, escaping the destruction of their ship.

It was with a heavy heart that the Emperor concluded that Olympia could not be saved, and had to be destroyed, lest the corruptive influence of these aliens contaminate other worlds. Perturabo asked that the loyal citizens of Lochos be saved, along with the remaining Iron Warriors. They had fought the xenos and remained pure. If not, he said, then he would die with them in the Burning of Olympia.

The Emperor, faced with this threat and this show of inflexible loyalty to one's people, relented and ordered a Battleship to take aboard the refugees of Lochos. Then , after completing the evacuation, Olympia was bombarded from orbit, with Perturabo firing the first shot against the planet he had called home. He reasoned that, with its population so willing to give themselves to xenos rule in order to win ancient squabbles for land and prestige, it would be better for the world to die than continue to suffer such indignity.

After the bombardment was over, Perturabo swore to always remember his home, but to never return.

To this day, Olympia is quarantined by the Inquisition, with only Fourth Legion members allowed unrestricted entry.

THE GREAT CRUSADE

Unfortunately, Perturabo suffered the indignity of being the only Primarch who had failed in conquering his homeworld. At the Celebrations which accompanied the rediscovery of the Fourth Primarch, he was mocked by Rogal Dorn, the Lord of Inwit for his failures. According to Dorn, such a fate was deserved by one who relied on sieges instead on honorable battles. If Perturabo had faced the xenos in battle, they would have been defeated.

This began the infamous enmity between the Fourth and the Seventh Legions, one that lasts even to this day.

The Fourth Legion was in a sorry state when Perturabo was given command, reduced to 29.000 Legionaries by the meat-grinder that the Liberation of Incaladion had been. Perturabo found in his sons the understanding his brother Primarchs did not give him: they too had been mauled by a strong foe and had barely won and survived. And they recognized that betrayal and treachery were the strongest foe a warrior could ever meet.

Perturabo renamed the Fourth Legion the Iron Warriors, to honor the human armies who had stood by him and died for him upon Olympia. The survivors of the dead world submitted themselves to gene-seed implantation, in order to remain with their leader. Almost all of them survived or were subjected to late implantation procedures.

Still, Perturabo deemed the Fourth Legion inadequate. Not in terms of skill, but of numbers. 30.000 Legionaries were utterly insufficient to conquer the galaxy in a meaningful fashion. So he gave order for a massive recruitment spree across all worlds liberated by the Iron Warriors up to that point. Terra herself was not spared by Perturabo's edict, the Terrawatt Clans of the Urals and the people of Hive Tashkent giving up 100.000 recruits.

The rate of conquests halted during this time. This brought even more scorn from Rogal Dorn and Roboute Guilliman, who had conquered entire Sectors in the same time.

 _"_ _He is clearly inferior. The runt of the Emperor's litter"- Roboute Guilliman, Lord of the Two Hundred Worlds._

When the Iron Warriors were back at a strength deemed acceptable (180.000 Marines) by their Primarch, the Lord of Iron struck.

The Iron Campaign brought into Imperial Compliance three dozen planets and destroyed five Ork Domains…in the first year. Some human worlds simply surrendered after seeing the Iron Warrior armoured divisions arrayed upon their planets or the Expeditionary Fleets darkening the sun.

Those that fought were ground to the dust by the Iron Warriors.

In the next years, the conquest tallies of the Fourth Legion only grew, soon passing the hundred worlds-mark…

The Fourth Legion's respect for their father grew over time into a full-blown personality cult, with the Fourth Legion Astartes becoming utterly intolerant of mockery towards the Lord of Iron. Olympia's fate became a taboo subject: only those belonging to the Fourth could talk about the dead world, and even then only to preserve its cultural history and legacy, which Perturabo had promised to uphold and preserve.

At the next Celebrations of Rediscovery of a Primarch, Perturabo brought in the rolls of conquest scored by the Iron Warriors in those decades, hoping to force his brothers to acknowledge him as one of their peers at last.

Yet, this was not to be. Rogal Dorn, Roboute Guilliman and the Lion scorned yet again Perturabo, deeming him an honourless general who bombarded the enemy into submission with artillery because he was afraid of a straight fight.

They labeled him a coward and brought up the subject of Olympia yet again. Perturabo was angry…but then one of his Legionaries, Battle-Brother Kroeger, exploded.

"ENOUGH OF THIS! WHAT ENEMIES DID YOU FACE IN THE CONQUEST OF YOUR HOMEWORLDS? YOU, DORN, UNITED THE INWIT CLUSTER THROUGH DIPLOMACY! WHILE YOU, LORD GUILLIMAN, FACED ONLY THOSE HUMANS WHOSE TALK OF MERITOCRACY WAS AN OBSTACLE TO YOUR ARISTOCRATIC BELIEFS! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO FACE AN ARMY OF ALIENS LED BY INSECTOID XENOS WHO WIELDED DARK SORCERY AND COULD CORRUPT THE MINDS OF MEN OR SIMPLY MELT THEM INTO LIQUID SLUDGE WITH BUT A GLANCE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO JUDGE MY PRIMARCH! YOU SHALL NEVER HAVE IT!"- _Kroeger, later Warsmith of Shield World #122, known also as Hydra Cordatus._

Rogal Dorn ordered Kroeger executed for his insolence and for daring to speak out against a Primarch, but was stopped by a new guest. The Primarch who had just been rediscovered. An ashen faced Lord of Death who had been found on a world toxic to any kind of lifeform …even to a Primarch, it turned out. Mortarion was his name.

The sight, and the knowledge that this _was_ one of their brothers froze Dorn and Guilliman on the spot. They were faced by the incarnation of Death herself.

 _"_ _Hold your choler, brother. I am interested in what this warrior just said."_

He asked for Kroeger to tell him more about the xenos he was speaking of. In so doing, he spared Kroeger from execution at the hands of the Seventh Legion's Honour Guard.

After the Legionnaire had finished recounting the Olympian War, the Death Lord asked to speak with the Lord of Iron for the first time. The Death Lord had found uncanny similarities between the tale of the Fra'al Exiles as told by Kroeger and the xeno overlords of Barbarus he had defeated. He asked for the Magos Biologis to analyse the Fra'al corpses which Perturabo had preserved from Olympia and one of the dead overlords of his own world.

The Magos Biologis found a 25% genetic similarity, the remaining 75% easily explained by Warp corruption. At last the truth was revealed: The xeno overlords of Barbarus were an offshoot group of the Fra'al who had completely embraced the Warp, becoming mutated as a result of their delving into the darkest of sorceries.

Mortarion then asked to join Perturabo's obsessive search for the Fra'al Hegemony the Exiles had left behind.

Stunned, Perturabo could only accept.

Thus the search began anew. In 911.M30, finally, the Hegemony was located by the Death Guard, deep into Segmentum Obscurus, spanning over 80 worlds.

The entirety of the Death Guard and of the Iron Warriors under Perturabo's direct command joined together to wipe out the Fra'al from existence. The Fra'al War had begun.

The fighting was hard. The superior technology of the Fra'al reaped a heavy toll upon the Imperial Forces. The xeno Ether Cannons could overload Void Shields and permanently disable them, while their psychic powers could stop Heavy Tanks in their tracks by attacking and frying their Machine Spirit.

It was then that Perturabo revealed his strategic talents. He seemed to instinctually know which forces were to attack, always selecting the optimal configuration of his Legion. And it was then that Perturabo finally saw the new face of the Fourteenth Legion, after the Barbarusian Reformation.

The Dusk Raiders were strong and capable of enduring heavy wounds. But the new Death Guard's endurance simply _was insane_ , bordering on the godlike. The Iron Warriors saw a Death Guard have a leg nearly removed, yet still moving and killing without any problems.

What however unnerved the Lord of Iron the most was seeing the Death Guard Destroyer Squads in action.

All Astartes Legions at the time of the Great Crusade possessed Destroyer Squads. They were charged with the safekeeping and rarely the usage of weapons of mass destruction. These weapons were relics of the Age of Strife, where Mankind tore itself apart in violence and bloodshed. Using these weapons was what reduced Terra to the post-apocalyptic wasteland it was before the Unification Wars. The techno-barbarian clans still held some examples of these weapons in storage when the Emperor conquered them.

He distributed these leftover weapons among the Legions. But most Primarchs saw these weapons as dishonorable and relics of a dark page in the history of Mankind, and refrained from using them. In the rare occasions they were used, the weapons could just as easily kill their wielders as their enemies due to the horrifying energies involved.

Thus, being assigned to the Destroyer Corps was a badge of shame among nearly all Legions, and a dead-end in a Legionary's career. Destroyer duty was used in place of the death sentence in some Legions, such as the Sixteenth and the Seventh.

The only exception was the Death Guard. To Mortarion, these weapons were a necessary part of war, and an integral part of his combat doctrine. At the same time, he was not mad or foolish: he understood the danger presented by those weapons to those who kept them.

As a result, he assigned only his most trusted sons to the units charged with the use of these weapons, and being a Destroyer was an honor in the Death Guard, because it meant their father trusted them with his Legion and his own life. The risk of death involved in the use of such weapons was, to the sons of Mortarion, no different from that in melee combat or in tank warfare.

Perturabo saw _exactly what kind of weapons_ Mortarion was willing to use in order to claim victory and preserve the lives of his sons, whose infantry-based style of fighting meant often horrifying (to Mortarion's eyes, at least) casualty rates. To his amazement, the Fourteenth Primarch, unlike many other Imperial commanders in the past decades,did not use the Iron Warriors as sledgehammer, preferring to deploy his Destroyers to deal with exceptionally strong enemy fortifications, which could be taken only by massive shedding of Imperial blood.

 _"_ _Every soldier is important. Wasting the lives of humans is unacceptable. To waste an Astartes is a crime of the highest order. If the price of preserving our sons' lives is my honor in the eyes of my brothers, so be it."- Mortarion._

In the star system codenamed PF-242, Mortarion unleashed a powerful nerve gas which wiped out the entire population of the first planet, numbering 129 million Fra'al and human or non-human slaves. Which paled in comparison to what happened to the Fra'al Core World of 89-210 III, where Mortarion deployed a gravitational superweapon, a relic of the Dark Age, which pulled the 473-km wide moon into the oceanic planet, destroying both and killing its population of Fra'al and slave humans. Which was soon eclipsed by the Scouring of Mai'lah V, where the _Terminus Est_ fired an ancient weapon of Eldar origin into the gas giant, where the Fra'al had built dozens of floating cities powered by the energy siphoned off from the planet's rare gaseous composition. The weapon _ignited_ the planet, turning it into a new star, destroying all Fra'al cities and pulling the asteroid colonies of an insectoid thrall-race of the powerful xenos in the star, dooming the species to extinction and creating massive climatic upheavals all across the star system, which had suddenly become a binary. There, Perturabo truly understood why the other Primarchs named Mortarion _Lord of Death_.

It is there that Perturabo formulated an axiom which is still followed by all Inquisitors and Adepta even ten thousand years later, one which only those terminally insane dared to break.

 _"_ _Do not cross the Death Guard."_

On 916. M31, the Fra'al Homeworld was finally besieged. Perturabo himself descended along with Mortarion and together they smashed the Fra'al Hegemony forever, killing its rulers through War-Scythe and Power Hammers.

It was there that Mortarion deployed a special unit of the Death Guard. The OSOAV Unit (from a Barbarusian acronym which is untranslatable in Low or High Gothic), tasked with the recovery of any and all Fra'al technology. According to him, it was useless to give it to the Mechanicum, where it would be studied, then put away and forgotten because of its xeno origins. (At the time, the Mechanicum was in the thrall of the Traditionalist factions, who regarded any non-human technology as impure in the eyes of the Omnissiah.).Better to _reuse_ it for the Crusade. And by reusing, he meant unleashing it on the enemies of Mankind.

He solemnly asked Perturabo to keep the secret of the OSOAV Unit, in order to avoid a political schism with the Mechanicum the Imperium could hardly tolerate.

Upon the ruins of the Fra'al Homeworld, the two Primarchs swore an oath of eternal friendship and loyalty to each other. The oath extended to the two Legions, who had fought and bled together against the Fra'al. Unlike many other similar oaths, this one would not only survive the Heresy, but was strengthened by it and remained strong for more than ten thousand years.

In the course of the Fra'al War, Perturabo reaffirmed a strong distrust of psykers, forged during the Olympian War.

This would bring him into collision with Magnus the Red, whose Legion relied upon psychic powers as their primary weapon. Magnus was furious when he saw the reports on the Fra'al War (the true ones, not the redacted ones). He was adamant that Mortarion be chastised by the Emperor for the destruction he had wreaked across the Fra'al Hegemony, and for his indiscriminate usage of Weapons of Mass Destruction. His requests fell on deaf ears. But what angered the Red Cyclops the most was Perturabo's order for the Fra'al history and monuments to be destroyed forever

The Lord of Iron desired to erase the Fra'al from the pages of history.

 _GENERAL ORDER #131._

 _All documents found in the Fra'al libraries and all monuments must be destroyed. Mention of the Fra'al is heretofore forbidden._

 _-Primarch Perturabo._

He largely succeeded: outside of this text, and the Fourth Legion's own secret archives, the Fra'al have been completely forgotten by all, including those humans whose own ancestors were enslaved by the xenos. Only in myths and parables they are still mentioned, and never by the name they had chosen for themselves. Only by metaphors or epithets invented by the humans' minds.

After this "crime against history", as the Cyclops defined it, the Thousand Sons would never fight alongside the Iron Warriors, deeming them complicit in the loss of so much knowledge. This, according to the theories of Inquisitor Voross of the Ordo Tempus, drastically altered the destiny of the Fourth. What fate was in store for Perturabo and his sons, he never dared to say. Which makes it all the more ominous.

 _"_ _Only monsters would commit such crimes against knowledge. All knowledge is power and must be guarded." Magnus the Red._

When the war was over, more than 30.000 Astartes had been lost. Thousands were wounded and interred into Dreadnoughts. The number of requests forced the Martian Mechanicum to dedicate many of its forges to the exclusive production of Contemptor pattern Dreadnoughts for a year, with help from Deimos to meet the production requirements. But the war was won, with a seventh of the casualties estimated by the War Council.

The Fra'al were declared completely extinct by the Magos Biologis in 919.M31. Olympia and Barbarus were at last avenged.

At Nikaea, Perturabo would support Mortarion's position on psykers, leading to the ban of Librarians which would last until the Heresy.

END FILE. THE MACHINE KNOWS ALL.


	10. Chapter 10: The Dragons Strife

CHAPTER 9 The Dragons Strife

 _"_ _I am doing this for Mankind"- First Captain Artellus Numeon, before opening fire on the Flamewrought, in the Nocturne system._

-Excerpt from the Dark Chapter in the Tome of Fire, written by Barris Kal'sho, formerly of the Pyre Guard. -

We were returning from a successful Compliance action against the world of 154-75. A Civilized World founded by humans who had crashed there during the Age of Strife, and had to rebuild anew.

Our Primarch's diplomatic abilities managed to get the world inside the Imperium without any shot fired. A good outcome, in fact. There are so many xenos out there trying to kill us without us killing each other.

Our fleet needed resupply, so Lord Vulkan ordered the fleet to Nocturne with all speed. It felt good to be home, among our family, our clans. Even if only for a while.

It was a well-earned respite from the constant war of the Great Crusade, which was heading towards its end. After Ullanor, there was no longer a single entity capable of challenging the might of our Imperium. Soon, we would have had peace.

How foolish we were.

As the final day of the seventh month in the Nocturnean calendar died, and the first one of the eighth began, most of us were among our families, to enjoy the company of our clans. To enjoy peace.

Little did we know that would be our last day of peace. After that, for the Salamanders, there would be only war.

We were seven. The Pyre Guard. The chosen of Vulkan. On that day, we became six. And the Fallen was born.

-Aboard the _Flamewrought, The Darkest Day._ -

Vulkan was in the Command Tower of our great flagship, the Flamewrought. One of the Gloriana class Battleships, it was the most glorious vessel our Legion possessed. Twenty-two kilometres of volcanic armor, it was one of the most resilient vessels in the Imperial Fleet, after the _Vengeful Spirit_ and the ships of the Death Guard. Weapons batteries straddled the ship's superstructure, which was crowned by a dragon's head. The symbol of our Legion.

Our loved Primarch was overseeing the preparations of his return upon Nocturne after so many years. Everything was fine, nothing could foreshadow what was about to happen.

When he received notification from his First Captain, Artellus Numeon, that he was bringing the Charybdis and three Battle Companies (the 3rd , the 15th and the 31st, numbering 15000 Marines in total, to a wargame in the Oort cloud of Nocturne, he authorized the exercise.

He believed that Numeon should have relaxed himself. He had been tested in the fires of the Crusade more than enough. He was on Nocturne. He was among his Legionnaires, he was in his adopted home. If one knew only fighting, then he would no longer be capable of living in peace and would constantly live in war…

Suddenly, an Astropathic message reached us all. It was sent from Terra. Its content was most distressing.

 _"_ _This is Warmaster Mortarion to all Loyalist Imperial Forces. Emergency Code Halo is in effect. All Loyalist Legion forces are to return to Terra at once. We are betrayed. We are at war."_

Vulkan looked worried. This was not part of Numeon's wargame. Emergency Code Halo had been issued only once, during the Rangdan Xenocides, when it seemed the powerful xenos would break through all Imperial lines and reach Terra, delivering the death knell to the Imperium. Invoking it was either madness or it meant that things were deathly serious, that a galactic scale disaster was happening…

And besides, _since when Mortarion called himself Warmaster?! Horus was the Warmaster. He had been named as such by the Emperor on Ullanor, during the Triumph. It would be hubris of the highest order for the Lord of Death to claim that title for himself…_

 _Then he remembered one thing. If there was a Primarch who would not go around claiming the highest authority of all for himself, that was Mortarion. The Lord of Death did not do anything without a damn good reason…_

Vulkan decided it was better to check…

"Contact the _Charybdis_. I am canceling the wargame. Recheck the message for the necessary clearance codes from Terra. Find out if it is a fake or a drill message."

"Yes, my Lord."-his vox officer responded, heading for the Astropathic chambers.

Vulkan exhaled, hoping this was some sort of drill. Mortarion and his damn paranoia. The Lord of Death was always concerned about threats only he seemed to notice. And let's not talk about Perturabo and his Legion, closest to the Lord of Death. Their father's paranoia, born out of his experiences on Olympia, extended to his entire Legion.

The officer called him. His voice was trembling.

"Lord Primarch, we and the Astropaths reexamined the message with double and triple security checks…and it is confirmed. It is not a drill. The Code Halo message was sent from the Imperial Palace. The Astropathic Choir has confirmed that Mortarion is the new Warmaster."

Vulkan turned. His face was frozen in shock. "WHAT..."

He never got an answer, as suddenly the _Flamewrought_ shut down. All power aboard flickered and died. The Tech-priests aboard, chosen by his Equerry Numeon, had revolted and seized command of the power generators, overriding them and forcing them to shut down. Then came the worst.

The _Charybdis_ and the other ships which Numeon had chosen to participate in the wargame… opened fire on the _Flamewrought_. Lances, torpedoes and all other kinds of spaceborne ordnance crashed upon the hull of the battleship, saved only by its strong volcanic armor.

But the bombardment would soon pierce that mighty armor if the shields did not go back online soon.

"Lord Vulkan, this is Techmarine Urzan. We managed to take Auxiliary Power Center Three. Transferring power to the bridge now."

The lights on the bridge reactivated. The bridge officers soon realized the gravity of the situation."Lord Vulkan! According to the Auspexes, the _Charybdis_ and the other three Companies' fleet are approaching us for another barrage. Their Void Shields are raised and they are not responding to our hails!"

"Open the Primarch Exclusive Channel. They cannot block that channel. We need to know what is going on."

"Yes, my lord."

The Primarch Exclusive Channel was a Vox channel specially installed aboard all Legion ships. Only a Primarch could authorize its use. It allowed the commanding Primarch to reach any Legion ship he wished to contact, overriding all Vox-blocking systems. No jamming system could block the extremely advanced systems, relics of the Dark Age.

The channel opened after a few seconds, with the holothic projector showing the armored form of Artellus Numeon, his First Captain and Equerry.

"What the hell is happening, Numeon? Why are you firing upon us? Have you gone mad?"

The answer chilled Vulkan's bones to the core.

"Simple. The Imperium is destined to shackle humanity down, and those who seek to lead humanity to greatness have realized this truth."

"Artellus, you are not making any…sense…."

"I have seen the future, Father. And I do not like it. The Imperium we have built and are striving to preserve will turn into a regime preaching ignorance and suppressing the truth. We chose to do anything is required to avert this future."

"What are you talking about?"

" _Guardianship of the human species must go to those whose evolution is most complete_. The Emperor has chosen to shackle them…us….and give the Imperium to the inferior, to the unworthy. The future is clear…we can try to avert it or be irrevocably broken by it."

"Who has taught you these lies? Who dares to claim the ability to see into the future?"

Artellus chuckled. No need to deny him now.

"Magnus the Red. He has taught me the cost of inaction. He has taught me what would happen if those who can act do not. Know this, Father…I am doing this for Mankind." The vox channel went dead, the _Charybdis_ firing another Lance barrage.

Vulkan was broken for _four seconds_. To him they lasted an eternity. The mere thought of his legion breaking in two was inconceivable. _Through the actions of his own chosen son_. He then refocused his mind into saving the rest, those who were still loyal to him and were fighting to reclaim the ship.

He exited the bridge, going to help his loyal sons retake the Void Shield Generators from the rebellious Tech-Priests and their Skitarii guards. It was difficult. But the Salamanders were one of the finest legions at boarding actions. Once their Primarch reappeared, the shock of the betrayal wore off, and they fought on with renewed vigour.

In the end, the renegade Tech-Priests and their guards died, consumed by Flamers and Bolters, and the _Flamewrought's_ Void Shields reactivated. Just in time to absorb a barrage of torpedoes from the traitorous ships.

The _Charybdis_ veered to turn her broadside to the Flamewrought, seemingly wishing to engage the battleship, which would have been suicidal: No Legion Battleship could face a Gloriana-class, however damaged, 1 on 1 and hope to win. But the Traitor ship fired two Cyclonic Torpedo straight at the _Flamewrought._

With the Point Defense guns down due to the Tech-Priests' sabotage action, there was no way to stop them. Vulkan at first ordered to dodge them, but then turned his head and realized _where_ the torpedoes would go if the _Flamewrought_ avoided them.

 _Straight into Nocturne._

Horrified, Vulkan realized Numeon's inhuman tactic. If he took the torpedoes, the _Flamewrought_ would be heavily damaged and unable to stop the Traitors, but if he avoided it his world would be shattered by the warheads' powerful energies and all life on it would die in a cataclysmic explosion.

He gave the only order a man could give in such a situation.

"All hands-brace for impact."

The Cyclonic Torpedoes struck the Void shields as one, and for a while Nocturne's sky was lit by a second sun. The nomadic tribesmen of the volcanic plains and the men of the Seven Cities looked up, unable to comprehend what was happening above them. Unable to comprehend that their Legion was tearing itself apart in fire and war.

When the blast dissipated, the _Flamewrought_ was revealed. Or what was left of it.

The entire bow was missing, torn away by the baleful energies of the Cyclonic Torpedoes.

The rest of the ship was heavily damaged. Armor plates vaporized, exposing the hull braces beneath. Coolant pipes leaking their content in the void. Human crewmembers floating in zero-gravity, their lungs exploded through decompression. Many Astartes too were dead, either vaporized in the bow or crushed by crumbling parts of the ship.

But Nocturne lived. As the Primarch went to the damaged parts of the ship to rescue his sons trapped there and stared into the void, through the autosenses of his Artificer-wrought helmet, he saw the Traitors had left, utilizing the distraction of their WMD attack.

They would go on to join Magnus' armies. At the same time, hidden Numeonites within other Companies, activated by secret code-words by Numeon, which took for themselves the name of Flame Casters, would stage uprisings all across the galaxy against their loyalist brethren on dispersed battlegroups or attack Loyalist worlds, adding more fuel to the fires of this newborn Heresy.

Thus began the Secret Shame of the Salamanders. The secret that outside the Eighteenth, only the other Primarchs know, and that can still bring damnation upon the sons of Nocturne if the Inquisition's Monodominant members ever learned of it.

But Vulkan lived. This would become the rallying cry of the loyalist Salamanders all across the galaxy, during the Heresy, the Purification and the following ten-thousand years. The emblem of the Traitors' failure at the Battle of Nocturne.

"Vulkan lives!"

Yes, he lived. But his Legion, the Salamanders, were changed beyond hope of recovery.

-END OF CHAPTER-

-Aboard the _Charybdis_ -

Now-former First Captain Artellus Numeon entered his private quarters aboard the Charybdis.

He activated a secret holo-projector, which was hidden inside the wall. The machine was a Zhao-Arkkad Pattern holoprojector, based on technology recovered from an STC in the Southern Halo Stars by the Tech-Priests of the isolated Forge World.

The projector soon revealed a shape, which was unclear at first, but soon morphed into the one of a red-skinned transhuman being. Magnus the Red himself. The Arch-Traitor. "Report."

"It is done, my Lord. The Nocturne Sector Fleet is in disarray. The _Flamewrought_ is destroyed. Vulkan is dead."

"Good. Join my forces in the Dominion. Then await further instructions."

Magnus the Red cut the connection. This risky scheme had paid off in the end. He had devoted a part of his own power into this endeavor, using it to awaken Numeon's hidden psychic potential and boost it to very high levels. It was a power which the Prosperine people had researched and described in their ancient texts, but never dared to use, for too few were capable of successfully mastering it and keep their sanity afterwards.

Through it, he had successfully turned a non-psyker into a high Beta level. Of course, such a power came at a price. The Astartes' sanity. Numeon, fearful of this new, unknown (to him) power slowly increasing within him and hearing the ever-growing voices calling to him from the Great Ocean, sought help, but he could not call upon the Librarians, for they had already been disbanded after the Council of Nikaea. Thus he had sought the help of the Pavoni Cult of the Thousand Sons, the Legion's healers and Biomancers, during a joint Compliance mission to cure himself of what he called "the sickness". The Pavoni, who were unaware of their own Primarch's scheme, immediately recognized the symptoms as those normally exhibited by an emerging psyker, noting the …unusual…late appearance of the power.

He had kept them in the dark about this scheme, so that the First Captain would perceive their answers as completely honest attempts to help a fellow psyker understand his condition and not sense through his budding powers any attempt at deception.

He was counseled into learning to harness this power instead of trying to suppress it. Magnus the Red asked for Numeon to be assigned to a Thousand Sons fleet "to cement the bond between their two Legions." Vulkan did not object, believing it was an honest attempt by his brother to remain friendly after Nikaea. Magnus purposefully sent him to train with Auramagma, the Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult, on Prospero. His newfound talent, along with his natural inclination towards fire granted to him by his gene-seed, allowed him to surpass all other Pyrae aspirants, to the point he reached a level of affinity with pyrokinesis on par with Auramagma himself….and even beyond.

It was then that Magnus taught him of the Warp, and of what he had learned there. Together, they saw the future as the Chaos Gods had showed him: an Imperium where an insane bureaucracy ruled, and psykers were sacrificed in their thousands to keep the Emperor alive forever and make him ascend to godhood.

Numeon was horrified by these visions: psykers…those like him…were used as living batteries to power an arcane device which served as its sole purpose to keep the Emperor alive and make him reach godhood. This shattered the First Captain's loyalty to the Emperor, and made him swear loyalty to Magnus the Red, who sought to build a New Kingdom where those with psychic potential, who had reached a new step on Mankind's evolutionary ladder, were finally in charge of the species' destiny. Nature itself dictated this. One day, the whole of Mankind would be psychic, ascending to a whole new level.

The choice was simple: embrace this future or foolishly reject it…and lead humanity to the Eldar's fate, who were now shackling themselves through the Paths and living as nomadic refugees or as primitives on untamed worlds, to avoid the ravenous attentions of a goddess they themselves had created, through their debauchery and thirst for ever-greater sensations.

After illuminating Numeon, he sent him back to his Legion, ordering him to find new acolytes and enlighten them on the same truths he had shown him…without being noticed by Vulkan.

The Promethean was supportive of him at Nikaea, but he knew that Vulkan was too loyal to the Emperor to be swayed. He would have to be neutralized and fast.

And now, his shadow apprentice was bringing him 13.000 more Astartes, ready to be schooled by the Pyrae Cult, an entire fleet of Legion ships, and had successfully wrecked a Loyalist Gloriana-class Battleship beyond repair. And killed a Primarch.

A clear victory for the New Kingdom.

Magnus the Red laughed, and four timeless entities laughed with him, feeding on the feelings of soul-shattering betrayal rising inside the sons of Nocturne's minds.

* * *

HISTORY FILE: NUMEON' S BETRAYAL AND THE BLACK DRAGONS.

WARNING: THIS FILE DETAILS THE TAINT RUNNING INSIDE A LOYALIST LEGION. CONSULTATION IS STRICTLY RESERVED TO PRIMARCHS AND HARROWMASTERS OF THE TWENTIETH LEGION, BY ORDER OF ALPHARIUS.

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS WILL BE MET BY IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF THE CULPRIT AND OF HIS NINE CLOSEST FAMILIAL CIRCLES.

FOR THE EMPEROR, NOW AND ALWAYS.

The Salamanders are believed one of the most loyal Legions ever, second only to the Death Guard. Their stubborn resistance at the Siege of Terra, where they held back the mighty Dreadwing of the Dark Angels, and the Titans of the Legio Ignatum, and resisted even the hordes of Slaanesh's Daemonettes summoned by the Ultramarines' debased Sorcerers, is still remembered ten thousand years later.

They also helped found the Promethean Cult, which has replaced the corrupt Ecclesiarchy, revealed as a hidden tool of the Dark Gods after the Age of Apostasy and the tyrannical rule of the Black Ecclesiarch, Sebastian Thor, who murdered the High Lord Goge Vandire and came closest to destroying the Imperium since Magnus the Red himself.

The Promethean Cult is now the official religion of the Imperial Guard, Navy and military forces and has spread even among the general population, who regard Nocturne as the center of their faith.

All this is true…except the very first affirmation.

For the Eighteenth Legion suffered a grave schism during the Heresy, a few days after the Dusk Coup.

This betrayal was led by none other than Artellus Numeon, First Captain and Equerry to Vulkan himself.

He opened fire on the Primarch's flagship, and tried to destroy Nocturne itself, which was only saved by the valiant sacrifice of the _Flamewrought,_ damaged beyond repair by the Traitors' attack.

He then joined the Pyrae Cult of the Fifteenth Legion, becoming the most skilled pyromancer ever recorded, surpassing even Auramagma himself, the Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult.

During the Heresy, some Numeonites were killed by Loyalist forces, but were believed to be isolated cases of betrayal, like those in most other Loyalist Legions.

It was at Terra that the Numeonites revealed their full might and numbers, forcing Vulkan to reveal to Mortarion what had happened at Nocturne.

In the aftermath of the Siege, the remaining Loyalist Primarchs convened. The Numeonites were a key point of the Shadow Council.

The Loyalist Primarchs agreed that the Secret of Vulkan had to be preserved. The Loyal Salamanders had proved themselves to be valiant at Terra. To see them cast out as potential traitors was wrong…and a loss the unstable Imperium, still reeling from the loss of the Emperor, could not tolerate.

They swore binding oaths of secrecy to their brother, and promised to never reveal the truth to anyone.

On his part, Vulkan reorganized his legion…and his planet. He made sure all people on Nocturne learned what had happened in the Battle of Nocturne, ten years before. He believed he would not be able to keep the secret for long, and it would have poisoned the minds of his people anyway.

Their reaction…was full of hate and desire of vengeance. At the Gathering of Skarokk, the people all swore terrible binding oaths of loyalty and service to Vulkan, oaths which still bind the people of Nocturne to this day. The families of those Legionnaires who had turned to Numeon changed their names out of shame and swore to remain in Skarokk and yield as many sons as possible to the Legion to atone for their kin's crimes.

The Pyre Guard, most shamed by Numeon's fall, was kept, as were the Firedrakes. Vulkan believed that the actions of the Loyal members of these units at his side were honorable, and did not deserve to be erased due to the actions of few.

What was erased was the name of the Traitors on the rolls of honor, scoured away by volcanic lava, never to be restored.

The Firedrakes did however paint the left vambraces on their armor jet-black as a badge of shame, to be removed and recolored in reptilian green only when Artellus Numeon was confirmed killed : only then would the black mark on their history be finally scoured away.

Vulkan did however reform his Legion, creating a new unit inside his Legion: the Black Dragons.

Made up of those sons of Vulkan who sought to erase the shame of the Betrayal, they were given specialized ships to roam the galaxy, hunting for the followers of Numeon, who named themselves the Flame Casters.

Many Salamanders have forsaken a role in the First Company to take the mantle of the Black Dragon and hunt the Traitors of that bygone age. Some however are forced to take the mantle, as they survived a battle where a Flame Caster was involved. This first-hand experience in facing the ancient Traitors cannot be wasted, and so the Legionary is ordered by the Chaplains of the Legion to "take the mantle of the Black Dragon".

Brought to the Black Dragons' fortress in the city of Skarokk, they are taken and trained by a master, a veteran of the Hunt for the Flame Casters. They are taught all about the Flame Casters, their origins, their combat tactics, their sorcerous pyromantic powers, taught to them by the sons of the Arch-Traitor, and how to counter them.

On the battlefield, the Black Dragons wear jet black-painted suits of armor of many Marks, most of them dating back to the Heresy, and search for the Flame Casters, hunting them with a passion and a fury which proved capable of shaking even the composure of Mortarion himself.

The Black Dragons are a reminder to the sons of Nocturne of the dreadful events of ten thousand years ago, and as such, they are avoided when possible, such as before or after a battle. In an active warzone though, their presence is a certainty: a Flame Caster is around. The ranking officer of the Eighteenth will yield his authority to the Black Dragon, and follow his every command as if they came from the mouth of Vulkan himself.

One primary characteristic of the Black Dragons' combat doctrine, otherwise extremely adaptable, is that they _never_ use psychic powers to kill a Flame Caster. In their eyes, psychic powers were the means through which Artellus Numeon was corrupted. So these powers cannot be used to kill them, as this would mean coming closer to where Numeon was before his fall and give the Traitors an opening to corrupt more sons of Vulkan.

Unfortunately for their order, the Flame Casters have ten thousand years of experience on their side, and dreadful pacts with the Pavoni Cult biomancers or Dark Mechanicum hereteks or even darker entities to prolong their accursed lives. Some have even used xeno-tech, proving themselves capable of returning from the dead through forbidden science harvested from debased Dark Eldar Haemonculi or through the fabled Halo Devices. Also, some loyal sons of Nocturne have fallen over the past ten thousand years, joining the Flame Casters and reopening old wounds in the people of Nocturne's psyche.

Particularly infamous is the fall of Sergeant Delphus of the 4th Company, during the War on Char-Loh XI. He betrayed his comrades, murdering eight of them and knelt before Artellus Numeon himself, before helping him burn all people inside Hive Payer-20 million incinerated by Warp-fire, soon followed by the remaining 941 million inhabitants of the planet.

His mortal brother, who had not been chosen as Astartes in his time, as the news came to Nocturne, willingly walked into the volcanic crater of Mount Deathfire, to offer his life in atonement to Vulkan for his brother's crimes. He is still mourned on Nocturne, who named him "the Astartes Who Should Have Been."

Artellus Numeon himself has always eluded the Black Dragons, successfully slaying every one that came close to reaching him through his fire mastery and his Power Halberd. No one ever survived contact with him _. No one._

Until 775.M41.

A Salamanders Tactical Battle-Brother on his first deployment, named Nihilan, successfully survived combat with Artellus Numeon himself armed only with a Bolter, after the Arch-Betrayer had slain an entire company of the Black Dragons and a Venerable Castraferrum Dreadnought of the Eighteenth Legion on the now-Dead World of Lycannor. After being recovered by the rest of the Legion force sent there, he was sent to Nocturne immediately, with all due reverence.

There, he was taken as an apprentice by Vai'tan Ushorak, a renowned veteran of the Black Dragons who had retired from the Hunt after seeing one too many of his students die at the hand of the Flame Casters, and asked to remain upon Nocturne to serve in the Promethean Guard. An unprecedented request which was granted due to the grave soul-pain wracking the old warrior's soul, one so powerful the Regent could not ignore. Upon hearing of Nihilan's unprecedented feat, he felt the weight of destiny upon him. The old warrior left his post and went to the Regent of Prometheus, reclaiming his ancient role as a Black Dragon Master and requesting to personally train Nihilan as his newest apprentice.

His request was granted at once.

Under Ushorak's tutelage, the former Battle-Brother proved to be one of the finest apprentices the Black Dragons ever had.

In the words of Ushorak himself: _"The finest sword I ever forged."_

Ushorak and Nihilan have travelled around the galaxy together, with Nihilan racking up the highest kill-count ever achieved by the Black Dragons: 493 Flame Casters dead at his hands, plus 50 more killed by Ushorak, who had been in his prime one of the most prolific killers of Flame Casters, with 242 confirmed kills. Among those is former Sergeant Delphus, the Traitor of Char-Loh, incapacitated and ritually executed by Nihilan with an Aspirant's Blade-the one forged during training by the Astartes Who Should Have Been.

According to the Apothecaries, his unmatched ability against the Flame Casters is due to his carrying a recessive variant of the Pariah Gene, making him a Blank. Such a mutant had not appeared on Nocturne in more than three thousand years, as all bloodlines carrying the gene had died out during a suicide attack by a Blood Angels warband, which some said had been conducted for this very reason.

The Apothecaries have thus postulated his gene is the result of an extremely rare, one in billions chance, _de novo_ mutation in his DNA that resulted in a fully functioning, albeit recessive, copy of the Gene _. A random, non-corrected, error during the DNA replication as an embryo drastically changed the destiny of Nihilan. What he was destined to become is still a mystery, even to the most skilled Librarians._

His calming effects on the Warp are the reason the Flame Casters are at a disadvantage against him, their pyromantic powers rendered near-useless by the Gene.

It is the hope of many in the Eighteenth Legion that at last, through Nihilan, the ancient shame might be scoured away, that the Eighteenth Legion may at last be free of the shadow of Numeon.

But, as a wise man said:

 _"_ _Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."_

The Imperium will have to see whether this adage proves true once more…or if at last, the more than ten thousand years old dark soul that calls itself Artellus Numeon has at last met its match.

END FILE.

WE ARE THE HYDRA. WE KNOW ALL.


	11. Chapter 11: HYDRA FILE

SECRET REPORT OF THE ALPHA LEGION: ETA-2120.

SUBJECT: STATE OF THE IMPERIUM DURING THE HERESY, 007-015.M31 AND THE GREAT PURIFICATION 015-028.M31.

STATUS UPDATE: CURRENT DATE: 903.M41.

AUTHOR: -REDACTED-

 _WARNING: Access to this report is restricted to Twentieth Legion personnel of Captain and higher rank. Unauthorized access will result in immediate termination. Such order will apply to any Inquisitor as well, except recognized Conclave leaders, depending on Alpha Legion approval._

 _For the Emperor._

Almost all of the Imperium remains blissfully ignorant of the great cataclysm that the Cyclopean Heresy was. The Imperial citizens go on with their lives, believing the Chaos Marines are nothing more than an aberration, isolated Marines who fell to damnation or daemons, who take the shape of the Emperor's Angels of Death to mislead and strike fear into the faithful…if they know about their existence at all, such knowledge being grounds for executions by itself according to the most Puritan Inquisitors of the Monodominant faction, such as Jorg Darksaber. Which we of the Alpha Legion, the Hydra, call the Fools.

At best, the galaxy-spanning war we fought ten thousand years ago has passed into the realm of myths and legends. And even then, it is hideously degraded, with major battles confused with each other or forgotten, and even, in some Sectors, isolated by the Imperium for millennia, some Legions exchanged between Loyalists and Traitors. This unfortunately resulted in several friendly fire incidents throughout the millennia. Ironically, it is in the legends, sagas and ancient fairytales of some of the most backward worlds of the Imperium that the Heresy is best represented. In those stories, passed down generation by generation, minor details may be deformed, but the core of the tale is unaltered.

Such as the legends of the Storm God and the Traitor Son, of the feral natives of the stormy Death World Arassuil II, which contain a description of the Battle of Terra that would move a son of Fulgrim to tears, through the Last Stand of Marius Vairosean.

Or the Betrayal of the Sorcerer Son still narrated by the Wise Men of Rhun, descendants of marooned Word Bearer loyalists, which detail the Destruction of Ancalimon in the most perfect way—that is, outside of the Inquisition's archives.

How have these worlds, along with many others, survived the waves of insanity of the Ecclesiarchy, or the ever-watchful eyes of the Inquisitors? Simple. We keep these worlds safe by recruiting our Aspirants from them, as well as many others all across the galaxy, and carefully disseminate the tale of the Heresy among those tribes. Those who pass the Trials are already hardened against the knowledge of a Great Betrayal shattering the future promised by the Emperor to humanity by the tales of their ancestors, and the discovery that a core element of their ancestors' tales, which they had intently listened to as children, really _did_ happen many millennia ago tends to have a reinforcing effect upon the Astartes' mind and soul, rather than a soul-shattering effect some other Legions witnessed in ages past among recruits picked from worlds which were totally ignorant of the Heresy, such as happened under the rule of the Ecclesiarchy.

Only the Inquisitors, along with the Legiones Astartes officers of course are allowed access to the official archives of the Age of Darkness.

But even they do not know everything. More correctly, they _should not_ , for even the full-fledged members of the Inquisition or hundreds-years old Veterans may not have the mental strength required to endure _the full truth_ of the Cyclopean Heresy. We can prove this…for we had to silence those who fell into madness or…. _worse_ …..by stumbling upon some truths they were not supposed to know, truths for which they were not ready. Many of these dangerous truths shatter the very fabric of the official tale of the Cyclopean Heresy itself.

Many Inquisitors believe the Heresy was waged by two clear cut sides. The Loyalist Legions, and the Traitor Legions. The Loyalist Forge Worlds against the Dark Mechanicum Hell-Forges. The Loyalist Knight Houses versus the Traitor ones. And so on for all Crusade-era organizations that made up, at the time, the Imperium of Man. Two sides, Light versus Darkness. Order versus Chaos. No compromise possible. No way in between. Those who were not with the Emperor were for Chaos.

We of the Twentieth know differently. We know _the real extent_ of the betrayal…and the shades of grey between black and white.

It went deeper than anyone can realize.

According to our internal Legion records, the only two Legions without any known turncoat elements are the Thousand Sons, the Arch-Traitors, and the Death Guard, the Unbreakable Shield of Humanity. The similarity between the two is deeper than one can expect. Just do not say this to any member of the Fourteenth or the Fifteenth, for he will kill you on the spot in the most painful ways imaginable for daring to say this.

In both cases, at the core there was a god-like veneration for the respective Primarchs, driven by what they did for their Legions.

Magnus the Red saved his Legion from the destabilizing mutative effects of his gene-seed, the so-called Flesh-Change. They owed him their very lives. When he fell to damnation, they could only follow into his steps, following their savior unquestioningly. Magnus prided himself on his Legion Captains being independent. They became so only after he was _truly_ gone, destroyed by the Emperor's mighty power.

Mortarion saved his planet from degenerate, heavily Warp-corrupted xeno overlords who had turned Barbarus into a living hell, where death was the only way of escape one had available…yet none took, for the lords of Barbarus were also proficient in the dark arts of necromancy. Those who killed themselves simply gave their tormentors more raw material with which to work. The people of Barbarus venerate "Death, the Giver of Freedom and Mortarion who is her Herald" even above the Emperor. The Prometheans and the remnants of the Ecclesiarchy object to this heresy, but anyone who does so openly is silenced immediately, either by the Inquisition or by one of our infiltrated Operatives. Were it not for the Death Guard, we would never have been born…or worse, we would have become followers of the Ruinous Powers, their worship the only thing we would have ever known in our lives.

 _All other Legions_ suffered internal strife and betrayal. Some more than the others, with varying consequences. Treachery ran both ways. The Ancalimon Atrocity is the most famous example of Loyalists inside Traitor Legions. The Knights-Errant assembled by the Sigillite are another example., although there are less notable examples, all of which helped shape the final course of the Heresy.

* * *

 _We chose to defy our Primarch, whose cursed name shall no longer pass my lips, and to remain loyal._

 _We, the 22_ _nd_ _Chapter of the Thirteenth Legion, chose to remain in the light. And for that we had to pay with many lives._

 _When the new leader of the 22_ _nd_ _Chapter, Eleon Iasus, assigned to us by our Primarch, in defiance of the traditions which shaped our Chapter ever since its creation on Terra, asked us to stand with Guilliman against the Emperor, my men's reaction was clear and uncompromising._

 _They put a bolter shell in the head of the arrogant bastard._

 _Unfortunately, Iasus was not alone. He had 5000 more Ultramarines with him, assigned to purge us. We had to fight our way through them, as we had done against the damn Orks._

 _In the end we survived…. barely. Of the ten thousand Legionaries that made up the 22_ _nd_ _Chapter in that moment, only 3000 survived. And that does not count those of our own that had chosen to stand with Guilliman over our Emperor, and that we had to put down as a result._

 _We set course towards Terra aboard our only Battle Barge left, hoping to warn the Emperor of our Primarch's actions._

 _But we were too late. When we reached Terra, they already knew. Worse than that, eight other Legions had joined the Traitors, led by Magnus the Red, who sought to topple the Emperor and usher in a "New Kingdom"._

 _We were put in the fortresses of Luna, to be tested for purity, under orders of the Sigillite._

 _After the stringent tests, our chapter was sent to the frontlines, alongside the Death Guard, where we reinforced the Destroyer Units of the Fourteenth, whose Primarch, Mortarion, is the new Warmaster._

 _We are exiles._

 _We are no longer bound by the rules and dictates of the Thirteenth._

 _We shall show the traitors who we really are. We are the Twenty-Second._

 _ **We are Nemesis.**_

* * *

Almost no attention –and thankfully, because very few maintain their sanity after learning of this- is paid to _Traitors inside Loyalist Legions_.

They are known to the Inquisition as the Vipers. A name which seeks to categorize them in a single group, when really there were thousands. Wearing mismatched armor suits emblazoned with unsanctioned emblems fashioned by their own minds, these Legionnaires spat upon their Legion and their Primarch's ideals and joined Magnus' armies, for many reasons.

There were the Idealists: those who truly believed that the New Kingdom promised and propounded by Magnus was the only way to restart Humanity's True Path to Masters of the Universe, both in the Materium and the Immaterium, and "lead them away from the dead-end that the Imperium represented." The 84th Grand Battalion of the Iron Warriors is an infamous example of this. They proudly fought under the banner of Chaos even during the Siege of Terra, where their leader, Barabas Dantioch, successfully slew an entire battalion of the Death Guard's Sixth Great Battle Company and ascended to Daemon Princedom of Khorne. To this day he leads Blood Crusades against the Imperium…and even beyond, as the countless Ork skulls found on Gorywn can attest.

Unfortunately, even among our number there were such men. Traitors inside the Hydra. We killed most of them during the Heresy, but not all…to our eternal shame. We hunt them still.

The most infamous of them was Varus Hos, the Mad. He was corrupted by a charismatic and utterly insane White Scars Stormseer he was sent to kill. But not any one Stormseer. It was Targutai Yesugei, the Dark Shaman, the one who guided the Khan, and later, Magnus the Red himself in their path to damnation.

He fought side by side with Targutai as his Death Shadow, and foiled dozens of attempts by us to kill the Dark Shaman. In the end, we had to murder an entire world –Ootheca, near the Maelstrom-to kill him. And even this backfired.

For the accursed son of Chogoris successfully harvested the death and despair of the dying world, to give himself daemonhood. We still hunt him, even ten thousand years later, hoping to expunge this secret failure from our honor.

The most devastating case of such Idealism however was the corruption of Artellus Numeon, First Captain of the Salamanders. Corrupted by the sorceries of Magnus the Red himself, he led a full third of the Eighteenth (approximately 25.000 Astartes) into revolt against Vulkan, successfully taking two Sectors close to the Maelstrom, east of the Prosperine Dominion. He however renounced the rule of those Sectors, seeking to fully perfect his power of pyromancy. He and his Astartes became full-fledged members of the Pyrae Cult, which became the largest cult inside the Fifteenth Legion. He fought beside Magnus himself in the Solar War, and took the Jupiter Shipyards during the Siege of Terra, where he slaughtered 440 Emperor's Children, among which Marius Vairosean, Captain of the Third Company. After the Purification, he fled into the Eye of Terror, where his Flame Casters made their base, and from where they have raided the Imperium ever since, staining the honor of the Eighteenth Legion, who swore to burn them from existence for their crimes.

* * *

We did what we had to do.

We attacked our Primarch, for he was unshakeable in his loyalty to the Emperor.

We slew those of our brothers who would not see the truth.

The Imperium was a means to lift up Humanity from its existence as sparse barbarians…. but it was ultimately designed as a cage. To shackle those who held a connection to the realm of knowledge and those who could see the truth.

The Emperor was not the Omnissiah.

The true path to knowledge…is the Immaterium.

And I shall follow it, for it is the will of the True Omnissiah, Chaos.

All knowledge is power…and must be used well.

-Shen'ra, Heretekal Techmarine, formerly of the Eighteenth Legion-

* * *

Then there were those who chose what many Inquisitors and even Astartes today view as impossible in the time of such a monolithic conflict. A third option between the Emperor and Magnus _. Their own_. This happened on both sides. They are called Blackshields.

They deserted their Legions, and searched for isolated planets, far from the frontlines of the war, or deemed non-strategic assets, unworthy of consideration by the strategists of the Heresy. These qualities were _exactly_ what made them appealing to the deserters. These lost souls, wracked by grief or ambition, left the war to seek isolated abodes. There they made themselves kings and rulers over the local populations, with countless different titles. Their style of government was equally varied: from the High King of Arzad, formerly of the World Eaters, who ruled as a primus inter pares with twelve other kings, ushering in a golden age for his world, to the Butcher King of Ithaka, formerly of the Imperial Fists, who used the human population of the Oceanic World as his armies against his sworn rival, Eupites of the Iron Warriors and self-styled Bearer of the Aquila.

* * *

The dream is ash.

The Imperium is dead. No matter who wins the war, the Imperium for which I gave my blood on countless worlds…is dead.

The Traitors have subverted my Legion, and my Primarch, the one I loved above all, was leading their ranks.

I refused to join this madness. And for this, I had to fight…even those aboard my ship. The fight was hard and it ended when the last Traitors died at my blade.

I was now alone, me and my Indomitus Pattern Terminator Armour.

My Cruiser, too heavily damaged to continue fighting after the last random Warp-jump, crashed on a moon orbiting the third planet in this until-now undiscovered star system.

I was forced to board a Salvation Pod and to land on the planet itself.

The sight was the most beautiful one I had ever seen.

A Super-Terra made of water, an Oceanic World where only one continent stood. Beaches made of true sand, not the synthetic one made by the Mechanicum. Rock mountains undefiled by the touch of man. I never saw anything like this on Cthonia.

The Emperor's Children would call this…perfect.

Soon, I discovered I was not the first one to find this paradise.

A civilization of humans lived on it, reduced to an Iron Age level of civilization on the Official Compliance Civilization Scale. Held in thrall by a local tyrant, descendant of a long dynasty, it was forced to labor for his ambition and his desire to rule more of the planet.

I reached the capital city and challenged the tyrant to a 1 on 1 duel.

He did not last even ten seconds. And I was without my armour.

The loyal soldiers of the tyrant attacked me, but the long contained resentment of the populace aided me. The revolution was swifter than a Speartip assault led by my former Legion.

Now, I am King of the polity the people of this world call the Kingdom of Harsu.

I shall rule the people of the world as justly as I can, and through it, keep the Great Crusade, and the Imperial Truth alive, even if only on this world. And to anyone who would threaten this world, know this…. I shall forever fight for it.

Traitors, you are warned.

-From an ancient stone monument in the ancient city of Harsu, attributed to the venerated sovereign Araghast the Long-Lived, King of Harsu, ruler of the world of Harsu, a Civilized World in the Halo Stars. Recovered by the Imperium, and simultaneously declared a Recruiting World by the Alpha Legion in M38.

* * *

Some Loyalists did not do this willingly, just to escape the war. Often, they were survivors of infamous betrayals and great battles, who found themselves marooned on those planets due to the fickleness of gravity, which pulled in their Salvation Pods, or found themselves on a frontline, in a Sector whose command structure had been decapitated by Traitors. In a last-ditch attempt to reorganize the Loyalist forces, who had received no more word from Terra those Marines created Loyalist states, loyal to the Imperial Truth, which would give a stable structure to these forces and give them a fighting chance until the Purification.

This extended also to the Mechanicum worlds, many of which were bound by feudal ties to one Legion or another.

Below, one such example is reported.

* * *

-Cyclothrathe Forge World. Personal log of Asnada Wueyalvac.

Date: 006.032.M31-

Vexation!

A single Primarch revolting against the Imperium would have been…unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected. The calculations made by my internal cogitators estimated a median chance of 10.22% of this event happening, ranging from the 73% of Angron to the 0.0001% of Mortarion.

But according to the reports supplied from the Spy Ships operating across the galaxy, it seems that many are revolting at the same time. The reports indicate a number of nine, with a possible maximum of eleven or twelve, due to conflicting rumours.

Unsettling. The probability of this event goes down to 10^-22 %.

And yet, this near-impossible scenario has become _reality._

A civil war within the Imperium has begun. And it will directly affect our world. The Dark Angels, led by their Primarch, have taken Port Maw and most of its fleet intact.

With its heavy units intact, and summed to the already-strong 4th Expeditionary Fleet led by the Lion himself, and factoring in all other Expeditionary Fleets known to have Dark Angels commanding officers, the entire Segmentum Obscurus is predicted to fall at an alarmingly fast rate, bar any …. unexpected and unpredictable factors.

Well, Cyclothrathe, born out of the destruction of the xeno empire known as the Mitu Conglomerate, will not go quietly in the dark or bend the knee.

Today, the ruling Synod of Archmagi has ordered the execution of Yelav Draykavac, for treason against our world. I, Asnada Wuelyalvac, his successor at the command of the Cyclothrathine Taghmata, executed the sentence. Which, in my opinion, had been long overdue.

So now I am here, leader of the Cyclothrathine Taghmata, which endured the first change in command in decades, right in the middle of a civil war, with the Agathean Domain led by its old Marshal, Ireton MaSade, requesting our armies' help against the Dark Angels and their lackeys sent from the techno-sorcerers of M'Pandex.

Whose side we will pick?

The choice, for us, is automatic of course.

We will side with anyone the Death Guard orders us to side with, as we did years ago. And since, according to our reports, the Death Guard stands with the Imperial Throne, we shall follow them.

For we have a heavy debt to repay to the Lord of Death.

When this Forge World was established, in the final days of the Mitu War, from the wreckage of the ancient Mechanicum War-Barque _Cyclopean Mind_ , our ancestors were left stranded on a truly inhospitable world, among scores of dead ones…but littered with the powerful technology left behind by the Mitu. The pseudo-actinaric xenos had established an empire whose dominion on humans was comparatively light compared to those experienced by others. Subject worlds were largely left to their own devices, only being asked to tithe a quota of its manpower in exchange for protection by the Mitu Armies, and to give up all FTL capabilities and Warp-drive tech.

There was one law however which the xenos harshly enforced on conquered worlds. They had to give up all psykers to the Mitu authorities. Hiding a psyker was a crime punished through immediate execution.

After the end of the war and the supposed final extinction of the Mitu, we tried to reverse-engineer their technology, trying to puzzle out their scientifical achievements. We also wanted to find out why they feared psykers so much, why they feared their powers.

Our efforts were largely unsuccessful …until we discovered a last colony of the Mitu, which had escaped purging at the hands of the Dark Angels and the Imperial Fists. It was a sprawling hive-city, extending on the abyssal plains of a planetary ocean. Built on a planet which we designated Balas Prime, the only planet orbiting its star, it was a marvelous city…. for one built by xenos who had not seen and understood the Machine God's greatness.

Normally, we would have dealt with it through extermination, as standard procedure required. However, our research teams were hitting a wall on finding out Mitu technologies. This was our last chance.

We chose to temporarily spare them and captured one Mitu scientist from the xeno world-city. Through…physical persuasion, we discovered why they feared human psykers so much, despite the Mitu being psychic beings themselves.

According to the alien's testimony, his species had achieved psychic potential many millennia before, and had suffered much damage in what they called the Third Age of Discovery, but due to the constant policing presence of the Eldar Empire, which did not tolerate powerful xeno species so close to their own borders, their species could not expand beyond its core regions. Only with the Fall of the Eldar Empire, they could finally build their mighty Conglomerate, spanning entire Sectors at its zenith.

After researching human test subjects from conquered worlds, they came to the conclusion that human psykers were coming into existence too early for our species' evolution, and this risked turning psykers into uncontrollable weapons of mass destruction, bringing once more upon the Mitu the attention of the "entities beyond the Veil". And so, they instituted the ban on human psykers, to keep them from becoming too dangerous and also to monitor the development of our species.

While we could not understand what the alien was saying about the "entities beyond the Veil", the Mitu beliefs about our psychic development resonated deeply with the historical records on the Age of Strife. Psykers becoming rulers of worlds through their powers or bringing about catastrophic events which doomed entire planets.

The xeno also stated that the aliens, in fear of an Eldar invasion, they had built and stockpiled vaults of contra-psyker weapons, hidden in their former worlds. The locations however were unknown even to them, for they were kept at the highest level of the Conglomerate rulers, which the Dark Angels had executed to a man.

The xeno asked us, in exchange for the information, to spare Balas Prime. He had lost all the arrogance the local humans had attributed to his species. All he wanted was a world where their culture could be preserved.

 _"_ _We are the last of our species. We are beaten, for you have clearly proved your superiority in war. All we ask is a world where to live in peace."_ (automated translation transcript)

Despite our unshakeable beliefs in Mankind's superiority, we were reluctant to destroy the last members of the xeno race which held dominion over the region. They could be mined for knowledge. And knowledge _was power._

 _One does not throw away a weapon because of its non-human origin._

Our World thus committed a disobedience of the highest order against Imperial Law.

 _We let the Last of the Mitu live._

We classified Balas Prime with the highest order of clearance available and erased the location from our navigational cogitators, and executed the troublesome Navigator who threatened to reveal this illegal act to the authorities of Terra. His death was recorded in the archives as "death from accidental explosion caused by a faulty Promethium conduit".

Using knowledge obtained through trade with xenos (another grave crime under Imperial Law) we cracked the Mitu technology, and finally discovered one of the Contra-Psyker Vaults on a former core-world of the Mitu Conglomerate, now a dead world after repeated Cyclonic Torpedoes usage. The vault itself had survived relatively intact…proving the abilities of the xenos.

We successfully reverse-engineered the contra-psyker weapons and turned them to the service of the Forge World Taghmata. New materials with which to build starships, harder than even adamantium. Hand-held radiological weapons which made the Mars Pattern ones look like crudely made toys. Finally, in 974.M30, we made a live-fire test against a known psychic race, the Boslics. The weapons proved successful beyond any estimate. The Boslics were completely annihilated by our Experimental Formations.

After some years, in 993.M30, the Martian Mechanicum found out what we had achieved. Rather inefficient. We expected to be discovered _much earlier._ And they were _not_ pleased we had not deigned to share the weapons with Holy Mars.

They sent a Mechanicum Punishment Fleet to both destroy the Mitu survivors and sequester the weapons we had developed. We would not give them up, however. They were our weapons, found through our efforts, developed by our minds. Mars had no right to them.

War seemed inevitable. And we knew Terra would side with Mars, and doom us to death or, at the very least, reduction in productive capabilities. A fate which we planned to defy to the last.

Then an unexpected factor unbalanced the equations which, until then, indicated this fate to be mathematically certain.

The Death Guard. Their Primarch Mortarion had received word on our contra-psyker weapon research, and decided that Mars could not be trusted with said weapons. For reasons which still defy our internal cogitators, he intervened…and stopped the Mechanicum Fleet.

He declared he had purged the Mitu survivors himself, and had ordered Cyclothrathe to load up all weapons on an old Cruiser for delivery to Mars.

The Cruiser, on its course to the Martian fleet, suffered a reactor containment failure and exploded. Post-event surveys declared the event an accident.

Thus denied, the Martian fleet angrily returned home. The next Synod of the Martian Priesthood saw our world censured for illegal usage of xeno weaponry. Due to the weapons' destruction, we only suffered a 23% increase in the raw materials tithe to Mars for twenty years.

 _But The Lord of Death had deceived them._

The old Cruiser was empty. The planet which he had declared to be Balas Prime was a long-dead world, purged due to a runaway Hrud infestation. All weapons were still safe on Cyclothrathe. In exchange for his help, we agreed to become vassals to the Death Guard, and to give our weapons only to the Fourteenth Legion, for usage against psychic foes.

I sometimes wonder whether Mortarion had foreseen what was going to happen. Magnus' reaction at the ruling of Nikaea, his rebellion… Why was it not foreseen and countered accordingly by the Omnissiah, but only by his son, who had always warned about psykers and about the Thousand Sons's unrestricted search for knowledge, only to be named as paranoid and backward by many Imperials?

Probably, we will never know…

No matter. All that matters is the present war.

And Cyclothrathe will follow the Death Guard to the end.

No matter where this leads us. For we have a debt.

And it must be repaid.

* * *

Finally there were those who returned from long wars in far-flung sectors , and found themselves beset by Traitors, many times by those within their own Legion. Those who survived such betrayals either attempted to link up with other Loyalists or simply escaped what was to them a senseless war, creating petty kingdoms within which the ideals of the Great Crusade could live on, isolated from the madness which had claimed the wider galaxy.

Those who did not find such a planet or had darker plans in mind became pirates and despoilers, pillaging anyone and anything on their path, be they Loyalists or Traitors The descendants of these pirate warbands and their offshoots plague the Imperium to this day, and forces our Legion to devote significant resources to deal with the ever-present threat.

The most dangerous of all, though, were the Chymeriae: Secret projects attempting to create hybrid gene-seed Astartes or even more powerful Space Marines. Such projects involved the utilization of Loyalist Astartes prisoners as test subjects. Supervised by the Pavoni Cult of the Thousand Sons and the most insane of the Traitor Apothecaries, such experiments were as varied as their foul minds could conceive. Many valiant warriors died due to faulty experimental procedures or due to uncontrollable Warp energies. The unfortunate ones, however…. were the _successful_ examples.

Driven to fight against what they believed, through sophisticated mind control mechanisms, by their creators, they went on to worship Khorne, becoming ideal Khorneate Berzerkers…or simply insane, becoming a risk to any and all living being.

Some rumours claim that some members of the Pavoni succeeded in creating an Ultra-Astartes gene-seed, capable of generating invincible warriors, capable of matching entire Companies of Astartes, but these rumours cannot be proven. Still, these rumours cannot be discounted, for the Traitors have had ten thousand years to correct their mistakes.

The betrayal extended way beyond the Legiones Astartes, to touch all organizations of the Imperium of the time.

Think about the Knight World of Alaric Prime, where House Degallio, using a vault full of undeclared archaeotech, created a planetary empire, totally independent from anyone but themselves, then built up a Subsector-spanning empire before coming into collision with the House Hawkshroud, which remained loyal to the Imperium. In the end, House Degallio swore itself to Sanguinius, becoming House Arcanus, completely devoted to the Changer of Ways. House Hawkshroud was only saved by the Siege of Terra, and even then it had lost 84% of its strength, requiring centuries to return to optimal strength.

Even some Forge Worlds, such as Beshic V, tried to choose neutrality, but often it did not last. Forge Worlds were the main centres of manufacture and technology in the Imperium. Thus they were coveted by all sides, whether they be Loyalist, Traitor, or unaligned. Their side was often chosen for them through weapons fire.

This is _the_ truth. The Heresy did not see, as often believed, an Imperium shattered in two monolithic sides, fighting to either keep the Emperor on the throne or to usher in the eternal rule of Magnus the Red.

It saw the Imperium shattered in countless shards, each one fighting the others, for the Loyalist or Traitor cause, or their own.

It was madness. A war that ushered in the Imperium as we know it.

Now you know why the Imperium is what it is.

END FILE. WE ARE THE HYDRA.

WE ARE THE ONE AND THE MANY.


	12. Chapter 12: The Solar Pacification

CHAPTER 11: "The Solar Pacification."

 _"_ _What are you?"-_ Warmaster Mortarion to Gah'Vinh'Rad, after seeing the aftermath of the attack by a Sons of Horus force on the Neptune Shipyards.

The Raid on Neptune marked all those who were stationed on Terra

It signified that even the Throneworld was within Magnus' reach.

It began when the _Aubenall,_ an Emperor-class Battleship, exited the Warp near Terra. Named after a valiant Admiral of the Navy who had perished in combat against an Ork Battleship, it was a ship made for war. Ten kilometres long, it was bristling with weaponry and command pods, marking it as a command ship. The event in itself was unremarkable. Thousands of ships had entered and exited the Solar System in the same days, stragglers of the Heresy which had sundered entire Expeditionary Fleets and Secondary Compliance Groups, extending even to the fleets of the Rogue Traders.

Except for the fact that according to the official Armada reports, the _Aubenall_ _had been lost in the Warp ten years before._

We attempted to raise the ship by Vox, but it did not respond. It ploughed onwards, finally crashing in the Neptune Shipyards, launching its Shark Assault Boats and Salvation Pods across the main stations.

From the Assault Boats exited the 25th Company of the Sons of Horus. Their chainswords whirred, butchering all in their path. They were soon reinforced by a horde of frothing madmen swarming from the Salvation Pods and the crashed Battleship, all wielding melee weapons, impaling and killing.

The Salvation Pods carried human soldiers, even more crazed then the Legionaries, always seeking new victims for their crudely-made iron sabres and hammers, and bellowing howls of praise to an unknown deity.

Yet it was their mindless war-cry which would remain etched forever in the minds of those who lived to tell the tale

"KILL! MAIM! BURN!"

-Three hours later-

The Death Guard arrived at the Shipyards in force, expecting a massed Traitor fleet, backing up the first wave. But there was none. Only the mad cultists and the Sixteenth Legion Astartes, who had arrived aboard the _Aubenall._ No other ships arrived at Terra _._

 _This was not the beginning of the Siege. It was a raid, meant to damage the industry of the Sol System_ , Mortarion realized _._

The Fourteenth Legion teleported to the Shipyards, led by the Warmaster in person. They arrived in Cargo Bay 2 of the main yards.

When they arrived, they felt something sticky under their feet. As the Techmarines reactivated a local power generator and switched the electrical lighting back on, they realized _what_ they had stepped on.

The entire cargo hold, wide enough to land a Sword-class Frigate, was completely covered in blood and intestines, coming from both Loyalist and Traitors.

Soon however, they were faced by the authors of the massacre, as the Chaos Cultists rushed them, iron swords in hand, shouting "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

The Terminators activated their Storm Bolters, gunning them down by the thousands. Yet still they came on.

Then the true horror came, as the Sons of Horus showed themselves …or, rather, what they had become.

For they were no longer mere Astartes. The 25th Company of the Sons of Horus, 160-Astartes strong, had given itself over totally to the daemonic entities of the Lord of War, allowing themselves to be possessed by a daemonic cohort of the Khorneate Daemonkin. Hands had become claws, wings had sprouted from the armored backs of the Astartes, and only the remaining parts of their Mark II armor pointed to their origins as valiant Astartes. And even those parts were dangerous, for they were inscribed with unholy sigils, which were painful to even _look_ at.

The Possessed charged the Death Guard force, all the while shouting praise to the Dark God of Battle.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SLAY THE UNBELIEVERS! OFFER THEIR SKULLS TO THE BLOOD GOD!"

Their voices had a double tone, one belonging to the Astartes and the other…so alien…so _wrong_ …. it nearly froze the blood in the bodies of the members of the Fourteenth Legion.

Almost. The sons of Mortarion near-instantly opened fire against the horde, with a delay of 1.5 seconds over the normal Astartes reaction time. To an Astartes, it was like years.

To a Possessed, it was nearly enough. The leader of the horde charged Mortarion and attempted to cleave him apart with his claws, only to be decapitated by the _Lantern,_ Mortarion's ancient Plasma Pistol and then bisected by _Unyielding Will._

The Possessed's body began to fall apart and disintegrate with an inhuman shriek which signified the utter destruction of the Astartes' soul and the banishment of the daemon bonded to it. It was a sound which signified and marked the utter _wrongness_ of the act which had brought these powerful amalgams of Astartes and Neverborn into existence.

The other Possessed charged Mortarion, hoping to be the one to kill the Second Warmaster and receive the final blessing from Khorne.

They were killed by the Deathshroud all the same, but one of the Terminators was felled by a Possessed Astartes, his claw punching through his Cataphractii Pattern Armor and grasping the spine of the valiant warrior, ripping it out of the body with a fluid motion, then raising it above his head offer it to his god. Then he attacked another one, but Mortarion killed him with a Psyk-Out grenade, which threw the daemon within in a catatonic state and then banished it, allowing the rescued Terminator to gun down the creature, who was revealed as being Grael Noctua, Sergeant of the 25th Company of the Sixteenth Legion.

The shock of the daemon banishing left Noctua in a dying state, but as he saw Mortarion he could still say some words.

 _"_ _Glory and skulls ….to the Blood God."—Last words of Grael Noctua, the Butcher of Neptune._

Then, the true horror began.

The Death Lord could feel in his bones that something was wrong. He could not place it at first…then he realized.

The blood which littered the area…was flowing _upwards._

It then fell down, sliding towards a near-dead shipyard worker, who also happened to be a psyker. The body of the worker rose in the air, then began to bulge enormously outwards….

Mortarion and the Deathshroud silently witnessed the first daemonic incursion in realspace of the Cyclopean Heresy, their minds unable to comprehend what they were witnessing.

Finally the body of the human shipyard worker exploded in a flash of blood and gore and light, revealing the hideous entity that had used the mind as a gateway into realspace. It was taller than Mortarion, and wielded a massive sword wreathed in fire which radiated power. It looked dressed in an armor similar to those of the ancient knights of Europa, with a different style. Two blood-red orbs replaced his eyes.

 _It_ then spoke.

" **Face me, Lord of Death. I, Gah'Vinh'Rad the Maimer, Daemon Prince of Khorne, challenge you to a duel! I look forward to wearing my skull upon my armor!"**

"We will see about that." Retorted Mortarion.

The two beings, one demigod, the other daemonic, charged towards each other.

The duel was not easy for Mortarion. His Plasma Pistol was useless against the daemonic lord, so he was forced to rely upon _Unyielding Will_ against the Daemon's blade, which contained the essences of eight Bloodletters of Khorne caged within by the Prince.

In the end, the Deathshroud joined in, buying more than enough time for the Sisters of Silence to arrive in the area and defeat the Daemon, even if at a heavy cost for the Legionaries.

But before being banished, the Daemon assaulted Mortarion with a stream of memories, delivered by a cut by the cursed blade…

 _He saw a lush world, which had been settled by humans, arrived aboard a ship built by long-dead engineers …_

 _He saw the settlers build new cities out of stone, crete and iron, restarting civilization anew from the beginning…._

 _He then saw…others, aliens, who had arrived there, on the world, which had been originally built by their empire, seeking to escape the decadence of their core worlds._

 _The humans fought valiantly, but the aliens….the Exodites, as they called themselves, had on their side power way beyond the humans' imagination…._

 _He saw a warrior, lying on a battlefield strewn with human bodies, close to death after killing eight Exodites. In his feverish state, which was actually shock, he felt…a voice, imperiously calling to him_

 _ **You are mine, Gah'Vinh'Rad.**_

 _ **You are dying. Your family, your people will soon be extinguished, at the hands of these wielders of sorcery. I offer you …the power to turn the war around, to save your people…**_

 _ **All I want…is skulls and souls. And you shall give them to me….**_

 _The dying warrior, feverishly accepting the offer of the God of War and Battle, and returning from the dead, empowered by his new patron. He single-handedly attacked and slew the leaders of the Exodites, whose psychic powers were now useless against him. Thus, the other humans attacked and triumphed over the xenos._

 _He saw the other humans see what their champion had become, through the unholy bargain he had struck. Horrified by the force he had dared to invoke to help himself in war, they rejected him as a monster._

 _It was then, the warrior gave himself up totally to Khorne, and slaughtered every living being on the planet, from the humans to the predators which dwelled in the abysses of the ocean. The world was then pulled into the Warp, the champion raised as its eternal Prince and Master…._

It was however, the last stream of memories which threatened to shatter the mind of the Lord of Death.

 _He saw another world, similar yet different to the world of Gah'Vinh'Rad. A world where oceans of blood flowed and gangs of humans fought over the scraps of their overlords, which Mortarion recognized in horror as Astartes. Which in turn fought, using armies of slaves or dueling each other for the favor of their distant overlord…a creature which made Gah'Vinh'Rad look like an ant…_

 _One creature which Mortarion recognized instantly. His once-closest brother…even if with blood-red wings._

 _Horus Lupercal. The First Warmaster_.

 _The voice of Gah'Vinh'Rad echoed in his mind._

 **"** **He will follow the Eightfold Path to Glory…the same one I followed a long time ago…And you are hopeless to stop it."**

* * *

After the Raid, the Neptune Shipyards had ground to a halt, delaying completion and construction of the ships within for months or years, until the butchered workers could be replaced.

The _Aubenall_ was towed out of the yards and destroyed by the Death Guard under orders from Malcador: a ship lost in the Warp for so long and used as a chariot by a cult of Khorne could not have possibly remained untouched by the madness beyond.

Warmaster Mortarion was deeply shaken by what he had seen there: Astartes of the Sixteenth Legion, the Sons of Horus Lupercal, the First Warmaster, had given themselves over completely to the entities of the Warp, accepting to share their own bodies with entities which had no place in a sane universe….And also, seeing for himself a human who had willingly become a Daemon …and that Horus…

Mortarion's blood ran cold at the thought of Horus. His once-closest friend apart from Perturabo. The mere idea that Horus could betray the Emperor once seemed inconceivable. The thought that he would give himself to the entity of the Immaterium that called itself the Lord of War…in exchange for a world to rule as his own…was simply impossible.

Yet, the Sixteenth fought for the Traitors. Horus had joined the rebellion. How could have Magnus swayed him to his side? Horus was not ambitious, he was already Warmaster. Moreover, he did not have a strong psychic talent like Lorgar, Magnus' closest friend. So how…

The mind of Mortarion came to the most logical (to him, at least) conclusion. _Sorcery._

 _"_ _Magnus must have corrupted Horus through sorcerous rituals which he learned in his searches for forbidden knowledge and in Prospero's libraries. There could be no other explanation_.

 _One day, Horus, you shall be free from this sorcery-induced madness. One way…or the other."_

 _This I, Mortarion, Lord of Death, Second Warmaster of the Imperium_ , _swear."_

But now, he had to keep the Loyalist war machine running. A difficult task in and of itself. Segmentum Solar was besieged on three sides,

The Prosperine Dominion to the east, reinforced by the Ultramarines and the White Scars.

To the west, the Colchisian Dominate of Lorgar, which was barely kept static by the Emperor's Children, the local Iron Warrior Shield Worlds, and the Iron Hands stationed on Medusa.

To the south, the Inwit Cluster of Rogal Dorn, threatening Kiavahr and all lines of resupply to the south, held in check by Ferrus Manus and Corax with the bulk of their respective Legions.

And north, the Lion was advancing, taking world after world in Segmentum Obscurus.

The loyalist Forge Worlds in Segmentum Solar were running at full capacity to replenish the frontline, but soon they would be depleted. The war on Mars was still raging, depriving the Loyalists its massive manufactoria.

The Death Guard was forced to remain on Terra until Perturabo arrived to restructure the defenses. The daemonic portal deep in the Palace was defended by the Emperor, the Custodes, the Sisters of Silence and some Mechanicum elements.

They were holding the line…but for how long could they resist, besieged by the daemonic hordes in the Impossible City of Calastar?

Thus Mortarion chose to stabilize his frontline by launching the Pacification of Segmentum Solar. While the Fourteenth Legion could not fight on the frontlines, it could secure the systems behind them, and ensure critical supplies reached them.

Leaving the Fourth Company behind on Terra to aid the Custodes in keeping order, to train the new Albian recruits and as a reserve against any daemonic incursion, he led the First and the Fifth in the Pacification.

While Segmentum Solar was largely in Loyalist hands, and the cults based in the Solar System had been purged in the Dusk Coup, some systems were in the throes of insurrection. Most of them were not of Chaotic nature, however: Magnus knew that so many cults too close to Terra would have alerted the Emperor that something was going on.

So he instead armed local rebellions aimed at regaining independence from the Imperial rule and reassert local sovereignty. Just like the one on Ancalimon Prime, which had become the pretext for the purge of the Loyalists…without Chaos. Only misguided humans, who seemed to believe that strength came not in joining with others, but in remaining alone.

These worlds also held resources critical to the Loyalist war effort. Resources which could not be destroyed in the fires of Exterminatus.

Those worlds needed to be brought back into the Loyalist fold without undue bloodshed.

Luckily, Mortarion had the perfect allies he could count upon for that.

 _The 809th Expeditionary Fleet of the Night Lords._

It was true the bulk of the Eighth was engaged against Craftworld Ila'Manesh' s genocidal armies. But the 809th had been sent to the Throneworld to refuel and restock on supplies after a successful Compliance Campaign in Segmentum Tempestus. They had been caught still at Terra by the Heresy's beginning and the Dusk Coup and swore allegiance to the Emperor and to Warmaster Mortarion as loyal servants of the Throne.

The 809th had in its roster 5032 Astartes, led by Captain Kadara "the Bloodless".

More than enough to do what Mortarion had asked of them.

-Perva System-

The local assembly of the Industrial World of Perva II had just convened. The Local Sovereignty Movement had overthrown the Imperial-aligned government through the critical support of the Militia, and had just declared secession from the Imperium of Man. The next debate was on: joining Magnus the Red's New Kingdom or remaining independent?

The debate was interrupted by a Thunderhawk dropship, bearing the insignia of the Sigillite. An I with three bars traversing

A lone Astartes, his Mark II Power Armor painted in gray, came down from the ramp. Nothing indicated his former Legion. The only clue was a Terran accent from the Xeric Tribes Autonomous Regions.

"Good morning, leaders of Perva. I am here on behalf of Malcador the Sigillite, bearer of the Emperor's authority. I ask you to reconsider your decision to secede from the Imperium."

Simple and to the point. The secessionist leader rose and arrogantly faced the Astartes.

"You can go frak yourself. You and your Terran "leaders". Your Imperium brought us into compliance at gunpoint, through the Luna Wolves. Now your Imperium is falling apart due to Magnus' rebellion. We must put the interests of Perva before the others'. Free Perva!"

The other secessionists cheered their leader, and the crowd closed in around the Terran Legionary, who was unfazed by the human's proclamation. He simply said: "Very well. I will leave and return your answer to the Eighth Legion vessel in orbit."

The cheers died off immediately. A young woman in the crowd, twenty-twenty-five years old, rose up and faced the Astartes. "Wait, Astartes warrior. Did you just say _Eighth Legion_?"

"Of course, young lady. The sons of Konrad Curze have remained loyal to the Emperor of Mankind and accompanied me in my journey to this system. They are waiting for the new government's answer to my question, which was very clear. I will now go back and deliver your answer…."

-One hour later-

 _"To the Eighth Legion vessel in orbit. Disregard previous report. Perva II suffered a sudden change in government. The new political party in charge is requesting the exact number of soldiers to send to the Imperial Army. I am requesting also a second dropship for delivery of secessionist elements hidden inside Perva II's society for trial by the Imperial Military Tribunals."_

Malcador's agent ended the Vox report to the sons of Curze. A Sokar Pattern Stormbird landed at Perva II spaceport to pick up the secessionist prisoners, most of which had been beaten into submission during one of the most rapid revolutions recorded in this part of the Segmentum Solar. The mere sight of the Tactical Squad assigned to it terrified the planetary population.

The young woman who had questioned the Astartes was now the recognized leader of Perva II, debating the planetary tithe with the representative of the Munitorum.

A swift job.

-Naduz System-

The Naduz System authorities had just declared their system's secession from the Imperium, hoping to gain mercy from Magnus' armies…or a higher fee for their support. The system was rich in minerals, and held a rare gem. The second planet in the system was a Plasma World.

The result of an ancient cataclysm wrought by the Men of Iron, during their titanic rebellion against their creators, the second planet of the world, once an inhabited world, had become a world where a self-sustaining plasma ocean existed. This world was a near-unique sight in the Segmentum Solar. Only a few such worlds still existed in the galaxy. The Mechanicum had tried to study the world in the hopes of recreating the process, until the Emperor had forbidden such research. They hoped that whoever would come for their world would give them _the right price_ for their support.

Their fine political calculations were thrown totally in disarray by the arrival of an ancient Cruiser bearing the markings of the Night Lords.

From it came out 720 Night Lords, landing by Drop Pods upon the outermost moon of the first planet, which served as the System Seat for the local government.

The government officials were butchered to the last by claws and skinned alive , while a Terran Solar Auxilia Captain who had served during the Compliance action of Naduz decades prior was called out of retirement to serve as Acting System Governor. The output of the mines doubled in the weeks after the departure of the Night Lords, who had even been given a cache of Volkite Weapons which the precedent administration had stockpiled in direct contravention of Imperial Law.

Even ten thousand years later, the skin of the secessionist officers adorned the throne of the System Governor, who would always be handpicked from Terra.

-Belfyor System, Western Part of Segmentum Solar-

The secessionists were now in charge of the local institutions, and had just proclaimed their secession from the Imperium of Man.

An hour later, the Imperial answer came…through the reborn Dusk Raiders.

The forces of the Death Guard landed on the planet and took up position beyond range of the artillery guns under traitor control.

And then they waited.

The Secessionist leaders assembled an army to meet them, which took up positions around the capital city of Belfyor, expecting the Astartes to attack soon.

But the Astartes did not attack. They seemed to be waiting just beyond artillery range.

The morale of the Secessionist armies began to drop dangerously. _What were the Astartes waiting for? Why were they waiting? Were they readying some doomsday weapon?_

Dusk came…and with it the Astartes, who caught the Secessionist unprepared. Many regiments simply threw down weapons or turned them upon their leaders, hoping for mercy.

When the next day began, Belfyor was back in the fold of the Imperium.

The rebels were sentenced to work in the Promethium mines on the planet, which more than doubled their output in a few weeks.

* * *

Some cultures, however, were fully with the Traitors, becoming tainted by the foul words of Chaos, and had to be destroyed, lest their venom spread to the neighboring worlds…

-Carpan System-

The Carpan system was a peaceful system, a mining center in the south-western part of the Segmentum Solar. The Mechanicum had built many structures in the system, all bent on extracting resources for the recently-founded Forge World of Carpan II, a colony of mighty Phaeton.

Some inhabitable moons were also found and settled by humans in colony ships sent from Terra at the orders of the Emperor, to relieve overpopulation in some areas. The moons quickly became Civilized Worlds in their own right.

After only a few years, the Magi of Carpan II struck gold.

An abandoned outpost, dating back to the Age of Strife, was found on the first moon of the fourth planet, a gas giant. Inside there were ancient weapons of mass destruction stored there by a warlord who had taken over the system in the tumultuous era which saw the human civilization scattered.

He never got the chance to use them, as he died in a war against Tarellian raiders. The weapons were then forgotten.

The discovery brought Carpan into the limelight as a major Forge World, and the weapons were, after due research, handed to the Death Guard Destroyer Squads for usage against xenos.

The Heresy gave even more strategic value to Carpan II, which remained staunchly on the side of the Emperor.

And Magnus knew it would remain so.

Thus the Arch-Traitor seeded a Chaotic cult upon the most populated moon in the system. Named the Brotherhood of Carpan, it dedicated itself to the worship of Chaos Undivided and Magnus the Red himself as the Herald of Chaos.

The cult based itself around a copy of a grimoire the Thousand Sons recovered from an ancient library on Terathalion, a world of the Prosperine Dominion. The cultists named it simply _The Book._

The Brotherhood spread quickly, aided by spontaneous apparitions and dreams of daemons.

After a few years of its seeding, the cult had reached critical mass and overran the moon it was founded on, holding the entire population of Carpan V-022 in its grasp, totaling roughly 40 million people. And most importantly, it held an ancient Retribution-class Battleship, forged by the shipwrights of Jupiter, armed with batteries of Disruption macrocannons, held there for repairs after incurring damage at the hands of Dark Eldar raiders.

From there, it planned to spread to the other worlds in the system through the intra-system starship traffic, eventually invading Carpan II and forcing the Forge World to repel the attacking army, stopping all raw material shipments from it to the other worlds, dealing a blow to the Loyalist war-machine.

But the cult had failed in remaining hidden. The Alpha Legion agents in the system had discovered it, and relayed the information to the Carpan Mechanicum…who in turn relayed it to the Death Guard.

The doom of the cult arrived very soon….

The Warmaster surveyed the target: Carpan V-022. A habitable moon, 5750 km wide, officially classified as a Civilized World.

Officially, that is. If one Loyalist had lived to tell of the tortures inflicted upon those who refused to join the cult…the moon would have been reclassified as "Planet that made Orks seem highborn nobles of the Achaemenid Empire."

He then gave the order to load the Virus Bombs into the torpedo tubes of the fleet's units.

"Fire."

The order was immediately executed. The arcane weapons travelled to the moon's surface, then detonated, releasing the Life-Eater Virus contained within. The virus tore through the cultists, reducing them to a sludge…along with all other organic matter on the moon.

"Escort 2…Light it."

A Lance strike left a Sword-class frigate, igniting the massive clouds of methane, propane and other combustible gases left by the Life-Eater Virus.

The firestorm engulfed the moon, burning for hours.

When it was finished, only a ball of rock was left of Carpan V-022, exposed to the vacuum of space, which lowered the temperature drastically, to 55 K.

Nothing remained to indicate the moon's past or the fact that humans once dwelled on it.

Carpan II's mines were saved, as well as the souls of all people in the system.

Mortarion looked at the moon's corpse for a few seconds, and said. "Prepare for next target."

"Lord Mortarion….there is only one target remaining now…and you know what that is."

"Yes, I do." The Lord of Death replied to the human officer who had addressed him as "you"…just as he wished. He did not want to be venerated by his forces _even more than they already did…_ and being addressed in second person was a way of limiting that veneration which he felt to be ...unnatural.

 _He was simply doing what he was made to do._

After these brief campaigns, only one system in the entirety of Segmentum Solar was in the Traitors' hands. The most difficult of all. A major industrial world, chosen by the Imperial Fists as a recruitment center. Defended by the entirety of the Seventh Legion's 39th Chapter, 5000-Marines strong, garrisoned by valiant Army Regiments, armed with thousands of Heavy Tanks, battalions of Baneblades and a Planetary Defense Laser Grid, it was a grave thorn in the side of the Loyalists.

Once, it was known as Araneus Prime, leader of a confederation ruled by a caste of Tech-Nobles.

The Imperium called it…Necromunda.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a system not far from Terra, a grave threat was uncovered by the Alpha Legion….

-Nalvula System-

A mining barge of the Tarask-class, recently converted to a gas extractor by the Martian Mechanicum, exited the atmosphere of Nalvula IX. A gas giant, the planet harbored many types of gases. Many of which could be used to power starships or other types of weapons.

This time, however, the captain of the vessel was searching for something else. He was looking for Gaseous Kernite. A very rare metal, mostly present in high pressure gas giants in gaseous form. If converted to the solid form, however….

The captain passed by the Loyalist Planet Control Station. At the time, the station was too busy building and retrofitting Baneblade Super Heavy Tanks for the Army to efficiently control all ships entering and leaving the system.

The captain and his crew smiled as they closed the Mandeville Point. This time, the 61st Brigade would pay him three times the usual fee for his contraband expeditions deep in Loyalist territory. With the money, he might be able to buy himself a moon or a place on a Pleasure World and live in comfortable retirement, circled….

His reverie was interrupted by weapons fire.

"Sir! We have been hit! Decks 4, 5 and 7 are leaking atmosphere! Beginning security checks…"

"Sir…we are being boarded."

"WHAT? ARE WE BLIND? HOW COULD THEY CLOSE UNSEEN?"

A new voice broke the Captain's angry tirade against his officer.

"No one sees us. They call us the Ghost Legion for a reason."

A bolter shot hit the captain in the foot, leaving him unable to fight back. As the Astartes revealed himself, along with his brothers, the mercenary captain attempted to run…only to be shot again in the other foot.

"Tell us the destination of your cargo, Traitor."

"Frak yourself, fool."

"Very well. I will ask your XO then. In the meantime, I, Autilon Skorr, the Hydra's Headsman, sentence you to death for treason. The sentence is to be executed immediately."

A Power Axe came down, bisecting the mercenary and ending his dreams of riches and pleasure.

"Anyone wants to be spared? Then tell us the destination of this vessel."

None spoke up. Then a young woman, probably in her twenties, rose up to speak "No one knows. Perhaps it is in the Captain's safe."

"What are you doing, Anette?"

"Saving my skin. Like you taught me to do."

Skorr motioned towards one of his Battle-Brothers. He went to force open the Captain's safe. The Legionnaire found a data-package key, which Skorr inserted in an empty socket in his Artificer-modified helmet of his Mark IV armor.

A stream of words appeared on the eye-lenses of Skorr's helmet.

 _TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE DHAJSON'S HOPE._

 _Deliver cargo of Gaseous Kernite to Kamela at full speed._

 _Payment will be delivered there. Triple the usual fee, as promised...plus a bonus for your services._

 _-Amdak Sirin._

Skorr then examined the cargo of the vessel. Other than the gaseous Kernite and other gases harvested from the gas giant, there were some Loyalist Army torpedoes salvaged from a Loyalist Battleship destroyed on the Western Front by the spawn of Lorgar ….

Hmmm. This crew hoped to rack up gold by trafficking weapons to the Traitors too…Double treason, then….

Skorr then turned. "Take the cargo. Leave the crew aboard…. except her." He pointed to Anette. "She goes with us."

The Alpha Legionnaires removed the cargo from the ship….which was immediately blasted into oblivion by a Frag Grenade "accidentally" left by a Legionnaire too close to the Main Fusion Reactor.

The Alpha Legion Destroyer then left, bringing the intel gathered to Terra to their Primarch. Their new passenger was left in the care of their Librarians.

As Omegon read the intel recovered by his sons, his face visibly darkened.

"Go to Malcador, Autilon. The Raven Guard must be deployed at once."


	13. Chapter 13: The Battle of Isstvan V

CHAPTER 8: The Battle of Istvaan V

 _"_ _For the Lion, the true Emperor!" – Dark Angels Warcry._

 _"_ _There is only one Emperor!" –Iron Warriors Reply._

Grand Master Haradin, of the Third Order of the Dark Angels, sat in the Command Center of his flagship, the _Thunderer._ He had just received the psychic report from the new personality implanted inside the mortal spy deployed by the Fifteenth Legion, which should have killed the enemy Warsmith and thrown the Iron Warriors into disarray.

Good. The conquest of Isstvan will bring him much honor, and favour with the Lion. Perhaps, when the war would be over, and Magnus the Red victorious, he would get to rule a Sector…. or maybe more, if the Lion got to rule the Imperium instead.

He finished reexamining the battle plan for the conquest of Isstvan V, one of the last Iron Warrior Shield Worlds in the north of the Imperium.

-Dark Angel Order of Battle-

30.000 Astartes, entirety of the Third Order. Armed with Mortis Dreadnoughts, Predator MBTs, Land Raiders, Spartans and Typhons.

400 members of the Deathwing, all armored with Cataphractii Pattern Terminator Armour.

1 Super-Heavy company, armed with Fellblades.

200.000 Human troops, harvested from Army Regiments.

1 Knight Household (House Klaze, made of 91 Knight units)

-Starships-

1 Miroitem pattern Battle Barge (the _Thunderer, fleet flagship_ )

10 Mars-pattern Battle Barges

53 Grand Cruisers

132 Cruisers, both Heavy and Light.

904 Escorts of varying classes, from Frigates to Destroyers.

The Iron Warriors stood no chance. The Emperor stood no chance.

Haradin believed, like his Primarch, that the Emperor was weak. He had planned to install a mortal Council of Terra to rule upon the Primarchs, who had bled for the Imperium and died in droves to build it and defend it. Nonsense.

 _The Astartes had built the Imperium_. _Not the bureaucrats_.

It was only natural that they rule it, the countless humans laboring beneath them, as on Caliban. The mortals should repay the warriors for their existence by giving them the right to rule upon them.

The mortals should even be _thanking_ them for their protection from the countless xeno abominations of the galaxy by giving themselves to serve the Noble Astartes. Without the Astartes, humanity would still be scattered around the galaxy, preyed upon by every other spacefaring species. To even think that mortals should rule over Astartes, despite the clear gulf in power between them, was…wrong. It was a perversion, a crime against the natural order of the universe, which demanded the government of the superior over the inferior.

That was why the Dark Angels had joined the rebellion.

 _We are the First Legion. We are those who died in their thousands to save the Imperium from the Rangdan Cerabvores and countless other xeno abominations. They should grovel at our feet and give us everything we desire. Soon the Iron Warriors will learn the price of staying loyal to one who would discard them on a whim_.

In the meantime, a human menial had just finished his shift at the gunnery post of the main Lance battery. His replacement was right behind him. He quickly exited the bridge before these Dark Angels could punish him for staying too long in their presence unbidden. Punishment meaning being flogged 12 times on the back. If recidive, being shot in the head.

 _Arrogant bastards_. Simply because he was unaugmented, simply because he did not have the luck of being born on Caliban, among the noble Orders, they believed he was their property, theirs to use and discard as target practice for their bolters or worked to death in the gun decks. Soon he would show them what a normal human could do, armed with the correct knowledge. The One had taught him that everyone was valuable, and could turn the tide of any war.

He would prove his worth to him.

He reached his quarters, a bunk in the lower decks. It was filthy and unclean. But the other bunks did not have what he had installed in the wall.

A data-transmitter, heavily modified from a Legion standard issue data-slate. He activated it, and inserted a data storage key stolen from his post. Inside, was the complete order of battle of the fleet coming to Isstvan V, as well as the security codes for the cogitators of the _Thunderer_. This should give the Fourth a chance to fight…and perhaps even win. Or at the very least, to take as many of the arrogant Angels with them as they could.

As the data transmission was completed, he headed away. His primary objective was complete. Now he had to sabotage the ship without being noticed.

He entered the Void Shield generator room. As he expected, a Tech-Priest was working upon the generators, keeping them to maximum efficiency even in the Warp. He pulled out his Yelrod pistol and shot the Tech-Priest straight in the head …or whatever passed for it. As he reversed the Miroitem pattern Shield Generator Coils, which would cause a massive overload and shut down the shields in thirty seconds, he felt the transition to realspace _. Just in time_ , he thought.

The wounded Tech-Priest began moving. He noticed it, and fired at it again and again. Just before the Tech-Priest died, the photoreceptors he had instead of his eyes flickering out, he managed to utter three words. " Who are you?"

He simply answered the phrase which had been drilled into his head countless times, both awake and even while sleeping, through hypno-training sessions.

 _"_ _I am Alpharius."_

* * *

On 023.007.M31, the Third Order fleet exited the Warp at the Mandeville Point of the Isstvan system. As they reached orbit around the fifth planet, the _Thunderer_ , flagship of the fleet, suffered a cataclysmic Void Shield failure. The planetside artillery formations opened fire immediately, the massive Battle Barge a target hard to miss.

The Lance barrage caused extensive damage to the _Thunderer_. Grand Master Haradin was aghast. The Iron Warriors should have been caught completely by surprise…

"Raise the shields!"

"We cannot, Sir! The generator is not responding!"

"Sir, this is Chief Armsman Nus. We found the Tech-Priest for the Shield Generator. He is dead. The shield generator is busted!"

"How…"

"Sir, the Enginseer reports that another barrage could penetrate the armor and hit the main reactor! If it does, this ship will explode!"

Haradin was now angry. The advantage of surprise was gone. He had to press the attack."All Dark Angels aboard the _Thunderer,_ board the dropships and Drop Pods. Prepare for landing. All troops, prepare for landing. The invasion must proceed as planned! For the Lion!"

"Space theatre command is to be rerouted to secondary flagship. Withdraw the _Thunderer_ from battle. Escort squadron 1, cover the _Thunderer_ "

Grand Master Haradin then went to board his Stormbird, leaving the _Thunderer_ to limp away from orbit, with two frigates soaking up incoming fire and exploding, taking thousands of humans with them.

An explosion suddenly filled his sight, temporarily blinding him. When he reopened his eyes, the _Thunderer_ was gone, replaced by a debris field.

Haradin took his vox. "WHAT DID JUST HAPPEN?"

"The torpedo decks, sir. Something set them off."

The Grand Master angrily cut off vox-link. Now he had definitely to win. At least he would have an excuse to avoid having to explain the loss of a brand-new Battle Barge, fresh out of the shipyards of Miroitem Prime. If not…well, the Third Order would have a new Grand Master.

The dropships began planetfall. Haradin noticed almost immediately that the AA fire was much more intense than anticipated. Surface to air missiles were rising from the planet in flocks, shooting down many dropships even in the stratosphere.

The majority though managed to reach planetary surface. Haradin exited his dropships to find himself in the middle of the Urgall Depression. His Legion forces were reorganizing and forming into battle patterns under secondary officers and sergeants.

Haradin swiftly reassumed command, and converted a Stormbird in a makeshift Command Post and ordered his forces to charge straight into the enemy lines, using mortals as ablative forces. He then noticed the Command Tower standing right into the middle of the depression.

"Captain Jalfuin, take your Terminators to that tower! If we can take it, their whole defensive network will fall!"

"Copy, Grand Master! Deathwing, with me! Kill these motherless bastards!"

The Deathwing was the Dark Angels' elite formation, made of those who had mastered Terminator armour. The Third Order had a company of 392 Deathwing special troops (8 died due to AA fire in landing), all equipped with Cataphractii Pattern Armour. This armour turned Astartes from superhuman warriors into full-blown human tanks, able to shrug off impressive amounts of firepower while dealing out the same. Captain Jalfuin led half of the total number of Terminators available on the battlefield to the Dark Angels, leaving the other half to defend the Command Post and the Grand Master.

The Deathwing used a Teleporter Homer system to arrive directly at the Command Tower, where only a few Iron Warriors were located. They were swiftly dispatched with massive firepower. The Terminators entered the Tower, expecting defences or traps. None of this were found.

As Jalfuin reached the Command Center he found only a derelict bridge belonging to an ancient Grand Cruiser. No Iron Warriors, no Warsmith.

"Sergeant. Look at this!"

Jalfuin reached his Battle-Brother. He immediately recognized what he was seeing. A Vortex Warhead.

He did not have the time to order his men out, for twenty miles from him, Battle-Captain Nathaniel Garro sent the detonation codes for the Warhead, taken from the Death Guard ship _Eisenstein_.

The battlefield was soon lit by the unlight of the Vortex Warhead detonation. The uncontrolled Warp Rift soon ate through the land, leaving a kilometer wide hole. The Deathwing complement of the Traitors was cut in half in a single moment, sucked into the tides of the Immaterium and torn apart. A strange creature, with bladed wings and three screaming faces, tried to exit the Rift but then it collapsed, severing in half the creature which disappeared screaming its eternal rage to the world.

Haradin was fuming. This battle should have been a formality. Now it was turning into a slaughter for his forces. He strangled a human menial who just happened to be there, at the wrong place in the wrong time.

"Sir…"

"What is it? Can this battle go any worse for our forces?"

"The Baron of House Klaze reports seeing Astartes with a green trim fighting side by side with the Iron Warriors. He says…they are faced by the Death Guard."

Haradin was shocked. The Death Guard! The sons of Barbarus! They were not supposed to be here. The Thousand Sons said the Fourteenth Legion had been in the Segmentums Solars and Tempestus, on the opposite side of the galaxy.

This battle was going very wrong for him.

* * *

 _-Synthesised Transcript from the Knight of Hae Klaze. Original transcript deemed corrupted by scrapcode and destroyed by order of the Inquisition.-_

Another bunker blasted. This day was going well for House Klaze. The Iron Warriors would learn that not everyone was capable of mastering the arts of war. Only those who dedicated to it generations of training, passed down from father to son, could truly be named warriors. The Dark Angels understood that truth, as did the Ultramarines. To him, only the Lion and Gulliman could be worthy of respect…

Another barrage of bolter shots interrupted his line of thought. He blasted the arrogant Iron Warrior pillbox.

Suddenly, a sharp pain hit him. Hae Klaze realized it came from his right arm. He used the Knight Castigator outside sensors to investigate…only to find it was gone.

Another blow hit his left leg, overloading his Void shields and heavily damaging it, forcing him down. What kind of weapon could do this to a noble of House Klaze?

The answer soon came, when Ancient Koloth of the Death Guard showed himself.

A Leviathan Pattern Dreadnought. Rumoured to be a relic of the Age of Strife, a weapon specifically designed by the Emperor Himself in case of a Martian revolt, it was equipped with dark weapons based upon the darkest of sciences. Leviathans could bear weapons that could destroy Super-Heavy Tanks such as the Baneblade in a single shot or even pervert gravitational forces, turning the laws of the universe against themselves.

The price for this power was the warrior's sanity. Those locked inside a Leviathan would last only for a dozen years before their brains collapsed under the strain, either killing the warrior or turning him into an insane killing machine. The Death Guard, due to their inner resilience and near-insane physical resistance abilities, were those who could last the longest, with some Leviathans having been in service for decades on end without suffering any cognitive decay. This resulted in the Death Guard being prioritized for Leviathan delivery over the other Legions, whose Leviathan chassises were sent to the Death Guard as well, in exchange for the less powerful, but completely stable, Contemptors or Castraferrums, which could also be relatively easily resupplied from any Forge World in contrast with the Leviathans, which were built only in secret forges on Terra.

Koloth was sporting a Cyclonic Melta Lance, which was the weapon that had disabled the Knight, and a Leviathan Siege Drill. The Death Guard veteran approached the downed Knight, firing another Melta shot which severed the Knight's remaining arm.

 _He wanted an up-close and personal kill_ , the nobleman realized.

As the son of Barbarus reached him, Hae Klaze bellowed through his Knight's vox-grill "Honorless cur! You would ensure an easy kill, rather than face me in honest, even combat! COWARD!"

From the Dreadnought's vox grill came something which could be identified as a chuckle. "FUNNY. A TRAITOR, ACCUSING ME OF BEING WITHOUT HONOR. WHO IS MORE HONORABLE BETWEEN US? CERTAINLY NOT YOU."

He then activated his Siege Drill. "DIE, TRAITOR."

The Drill was made to cut through fortress walls. It effortlessly penetrated the frontal armor of the Knight Castigator. Hae Klaze was _drilled through_ , with the drill emerging on the other side, spattered with the nobleman 's blood.

Ancient Koloth sent a Vox report. "BATTLE-CAPTAIN, THIS IS KOLOTH. THIRD KNIGHT KILL CONFIRMED. SEARCHING FOR THE FOURTH. TRAITOR HOUSEHOLD CONFIRMED: HOUSE KLAZE, BASED UPON THE KNIGHT WORLD OF MIROITEM VI"

The reply came. "Good, Ancient Koloth. Keep killing Traitors."

"IT WILL BE A PLEASURE, BATTLE-CAPTAIN."

* * *

-Dark Angels Command Center-

Grand Master Haradin stood inside the Strategium of his personal Stormbird. The battle had quickly turned against him. With the Death Guard on the side of the Loyalists, the situation was becoming untenable.

He had lost half of his Terminators, hundreds of Dark Angels, thousands of expendable human troops. Worse than that, his Knight allies of House Klaze were suffering heavy losses to the Death Guard's Leviathan Pattern Dreadnoughts.

He then decided to play his last card. The orbiting fleet above.

"Shipmaster. Order a Battleship down here, we need its guns right now!"

"But Sir, our ships are not rated for atmospheric operations. If a ship arrives there, the gravity of the planet might…"

"Are you questioning my orders, Shipmaster? Bring a ship down here at once or face the consequences!"

The Shipmaster took a breath and stated. "Yes Sir."

The human officer then turned to his Vox officer, a veteran of countless battles. "Send the _Agnon_ to the battlefield."

"Yes sir."

As he watched the Armiger-class Lance Cruiser descend towards the planet, the Shipmaster was growing tired of Haradin's aggressive and reckless command style. This battle was going wrong, and their only choice was to cut their losses and retreat. This Shield World would fall only through a full Legion assault and even then it would be bloody—

"Sir! A fleet has just emerged from the dark side of Isstvan IV!"

"What? Why couldn't we track their exit? We should have…"

He didn't have the time to finish the sentence, as a Servitor Guard suddenly malfunctioned and opened fire upon the bridge windows, causing a massive decompression of the bridge as all air and the crew members were vented into space. The Alpha Legion fleet, led by the ancient Dictatus class Battleship Omicron-12 (which, according to the records held by Mars, had been reassigned to the Fleet Reserve five years before and slated for scrapping) crashed into the battle line of the Dark Angels.

At the same time, armoured doors upon the planet opened, revealing hidden artillery. Ether Cannons, reverse engineered from the Fra'al by Perturabo himself and deployed only sparingly when the Mechanicum was not looking. The Iron Warriors used the confusion to reveal the weapons.

They opened fire upon the Traitor fleet. The arcane energies overloaded the Void Shields of three Battleships, disabling them and allowing the Loyalists' conventional weaponry to strike directly at them.

The Death Guard fleet then emerged from the dark side of Isstvan V and joined in the pummeling of the traitors.

"Perfectly on time"-commented Nathaniel Garro.

When Haradin received word about what was happening in orbit, he despaired. The battle was lost.

He signaled all Traitor forces to begin the evacuation of all forces.

He doomed himself. For the Death Guard Techmarines successfully triangulated his position and signaled Battle-Captain Garro.

As Haradin was about to board his Stormbird, it was hit by a high-caliber weapon, forcing it down again. This time, definitely.

The Grand Master of the Third Order turned to see Battle-Captain Nathaniel Garro and his Deathshroud detachment, escorted by a Contemptor Pattern Dreadnought.

Haradin pulled out his Calibanite blade, forged 3 centuries before the arrival of the Lion on Caliban, and charged Garro, who had readied his own blade, Libertas, whose history went back millennia earlier, to Mankind's lost First Empire.

The Deathwing and the Deathshroud followed suit, beginning what would come down in history as the Duel on the Urgall Depression.

Death Guard crashed against Dark Angel, each side seeking to kill the other. The duel was hard, intense. Warscythes cutting through armour, Heavy Bolters firing wildly.

But in the end, Battle-Captain Garro disarmed the Grand Master, shattering his sword. He then severed his sword-arm.

"Traitor. Your end has come."

"No, foolish son of Barbarus. It is yours which has come." The Grand Master retorted.

In the meantime the _Agnon_ had reached low level orbit and was directing massive Lance fire upon the Loyalists.

"Agnon Command, redirect Lance fire to these coordinates."

The massive ship turned its Lances upon the Death Guard's position, readying a massive barrage.

"How can you survive that, son of Barbarus? Can you endure _that much_ firepower?"

Garro was preparing himself for the end when the _Agnon_ 's Lances suddenly exploded, hit by a Super-Heavy Cannon fired by an Iron Warrior armoured post. The ship itself shook, then attempted to right itself.

It was futile: gravitational forces were called to test the ship. And found it wanting.

The _Agnon_ veered away from the battle-site, crashing upon a desolated plain many kilometres to the east, its fusion reactors detonating in a massive, inefficient nuclear fireball.

"Impossible! It should have…"

".-Killed us all? Yes, it should have. But it didn't. And now my sword will have to tolerate being stained by your black blood. But before you die, Traitor, I have one question for you. Why?"

Grand Master Haradin was not surprised by the question. After all, he had killed those Dark Angels inside his Order who would not comply with the Lion's choice. And those who had not died immediately had asked him the same question.

There was no reason for him to deny the Death Guard's question. It would not change anything.

"The Emperor is a weak man, who desires to rule Humanity while leaving it in ignorance of the greatest truth of the universe. You must-" Garro ended the Traitor's mad rantings with a Bolt pistol shot. This one would not yield any coherent thought.

Thus died Grand Master Haradin of the Third Order of the Dark Angels. Screaming mad rants at his killer, who had him at his mercy.

The Battle of Isstvan V ended soon afterwards. The remaining Dark Angels fought to the death or attempted to get to a dropship. Only to die to massed orbital fire. Some surrendered to the Iron Warriors, finding as mercy a quick death.

When the battle ended, a squad of the Alpha Legion landed to greet the Death Guard and the Iron Warriors.

The lead warrior was dressed in a Tartaros pattern Terminator armor, the finest available to the Legions. He was escorted by a Tactical team of twenty warriors. Garro went to speak with the Terminator armored leader, not noticing a Marine which was slightly taller than the others. Which was not an uncommon anomaly, after all.

"I am Battle-Captain Garro of the Death Guard. I thank you for your assistance in this conflict."

The Terminator replied simply : "I am Alpharius."

 _Always enigmatic,_ Garro thought.

One of the Tactical Marines rushed up to the leader "Sir. We have a situation."

"What is it?"

"A Dark Angel ship has managed to escape us."

The Tactical Marine gave the leader a data-slate where the enemy ship was recorded.

PRIDE OF GISOREAUX

CLASS: VENGEANCE-CLASS GRAND CRUISER

SPECIFICS: CONSTRUCTED BY MIROITEM PRIME SHIPYARDS, 892.M30.

PATTERN: MARK V.( last of the pattern built for the Armada)

ARMAMENTS: STANDARD, EXCEPT NEW STARBOARD TORPEDO BATTERIES

The list went on.

A Death Guard Marine, Solun Decius, scoffed. "What harm can a single ship do? It is powerless against…."

He fell silent after seeing the disappointed stare of the Alpha Legionnaires. And that of Garro, after he realized the true scope of the threat that the _Pride of Gisoreaux_ represented.

That ship carried one of the most powerful weapons ever. Knowledge.

Even without Astropathic transmissions (thanks to a failed Alpha Legion boarding, which did not succeed in taking the ship, but it did succeed in killing its astropaths) the crewmembers aboard had witnessed the defeat suffered here by the Third Order.

If the ship managed to reach the Lion or worse Magnus the Red with such knowledge…the Traitors would be angered beyond reason, and would come to Isstvan with the full might of the Dark Angels and even more…and the Iron Warriors would be faced by a numberless army of foes they had no hope to match.

He took a breath and stated "All ships of the Death Guard, prepare to launch into the Warp. We must stop that ship from reaching any Traitor Commander, or otherwise we are doomed."

The Alpha Legion commander approached him. "Your ships are durable, but slow. Our fleet would be slowed down significantly. Ours on the other hand are faster."

"I appreciate your concern, but we cannot leave our fleet out here in the void!"

"We must. Our overriding concern is to destroy the enemy ship."

He recognized their point. But he would not stay upon an Alpha Legion ship.

"To all ships, the heavy units, as well as 5800 Death Guard, will remain here to bolster the Iron Warriors garrison. All wounded are to be counted among that number. I will leave aboard the _Eisenstein_. Escort Squadrons 1, 2, 3 and 7 will accompany us."

Silently, behind Garro, the tall Tactical Marine nodded to the Terminator.

In space, a Salvation Pod headed towards an Alpha Legion frigate. It was pulled up.

A human exited. The Legionaries aboard greeted him.

"Operative Delta-Alpha 03, you have done well. The battle is ours."

The human, still bearing some splotches of oil from the Tech-Priest he had killed aboard the _Thunderer,_ calmly spoke.

"We are one. For the Emperor."

"For the Emperor."

* * *

-Secret log of Mathias Herzog, Harrowmaster of the Alpha Legion-

It was not too hard to convince the Death Guard Battle-Captain to leave here the heavy units of his fleet. The tactical facts did the work for us.

Our Primarch himself devised this measure. The Seventh Great Battle Company is an unknown variable at present. They fought against Traitors, correct. But their loyalty must be tested. They would not be the first Vipers we met on our path. The search for the enemy ship will serve as a suitable test for their loyalty. If they shall be found wanting, well…they will be processed in the usual way, as by Secret Order Hydra-66.

Our infiltrators left among the Death Guard on Isstvan will also execute the Secret Order, if necessary. We hope it will not come to that, and that our concerns are unwarranted.

But in this war, where treason lurks everywhere…assuming one's loyalty as a given is simply a luxury we cannot afford.

 _For the Emperor._

* * *

 _AN: My first attempt at a description of a battle. If you have suggestions, PM me._


	14. Chapter 14: Destruction of Necromunda

CHAPTER 14: Death of a world

 _"_ _It is time to give this dying world the Emperor's Peace. Cleanse it."-_ Warmaster Mortarion.

-Necromundan Command Center, located in Hive Trazior. Date: 103.007.M31-

Fleet Master Hashin Yonnad stood in the Necromundan Command Center, designed by himself, located in the Hive Trazior, named after its three high spires. It meant "Three Sisters" in the local Low Gothic dialect.

Yonnad remembered how the Imperium had discovered Necromunda. In the early Great Crusade, a few years after the rediscovery of Rogal Dorn in the Inwit Cluster, a squadron of the Saturnine Fleet on patrol was boarded and captured by the soldiers of the Araneus Continuity, the polity that ruled the Sector from the Age of Strife.

It was a realm of iron and industry, held together by ancient Warp Gates and ruled by a caste of cybernetically augmented nobles who called themselves the Tech-Nobility. The people of the Continuity were cybernetically modified to serve many roles, in an artificial caste system where one's place in society was based on the implantation protocols, dictated by ancient machines which skirted the damnable capabilities of Abominable Intelligence.

The Emperor had sent envoys to Araneus Prime, attempting to convince the Tech-Nobles to accept the rule of the Imperium.

Their message, brought by the same envoys, was brief.

 _"_ _What you propose is unacceptable to us. Most of all, it is illogical. Instead, logic dictates it should be you that should accept our proposal of vassalage to the Araneus Continuity, an empire that has stood for more than two millennia, while yours has stood only for a few decades."_

The Emperor tasked the Imperial Fists, specifically Hashin Yonnad himself and his Chapter, to lead the Compliance of the Araneus Continuity.

The war lasted two months. Only when the skies of Araneus Prime were darkened by the Seventh Legion's ships did the Tech-Nobility realize their grave mistake and used their master control signal to remotely shut down their cyborg armies, thereby surrendering and accepting the rule of the Aquila…

When Yonnad thought about how he had brought the Emperor's insignia to countless worlds, it made him think how he could have been so foolish to follow the False Emperor.

To think he was once so loyal he would have gladly laid down his own life at the False Emperor's command…

Fortunately, a fortunate encounter changed his path. As Magnus the Red met his Primarch to make peace after the Council of Nikaea, where he and Dorn had found themselves on opposite sides, he had met with Phosis T'Kar, Magister Templi of the Raptora Cult, the telekinetics.

His first reaction was hostile, although T'Kar was…more accepting of him than he had expected him to be. The son of Magnus gifted him a copy of a parchment written by his Primarch while he was a student of Amon, the most skilled savant on Prospero...after Magnus himself, of course.

He read its contents and found himself troubled by visions of ever-changing blue, pink and rainbow worlds ruled by entities unknown. He felt the presence of these entities not just around him, above him and below him, but most disturbingly, he could feel them within him. He tried to destroy the parchment with his Bolter, but failed. The text simply became written on his weapon, the visions continuing unabated.

At the second encounter between Magnus and Dorn, he had sought out T'Kar to try to understand the visions. The powerful son of Magnus led him in a mental voyage in the Immaterium, on a world which once belonged to the Eldar, its name once Pear-Barashin, but now was ruled by Those Who Dwelled Beyond. In that voyage, which lasted only a few seconds of realspace time, he saw things which could have filled entire libraries. He had seen the creatures of the Immaterium. He had seen the souls of those who had chosen no sides in the Great Game of Chaos, thinking only of their self-interest. Turned into Furies, screaming mindless predators, they endlessly warred among themselves, while the Greater Daemons of the Four shackled them to their will, and forced them into eternal service against their enemies in the Great Game, used as expendable, ever-regenerating, cannon fodder, mindlessly tearing into anything their new masters set them against.

He had seen unquestionable evidence that the Imperial Truth the Emperor had preached was a lie. There were Gods.

Phosis T'Kar then revealed to him the nature of the Four Gods, and told him that only the Chosen Ones, those which the Gods truly wanted, could remain free of the grasp of one of the Four, and walk the Ultimate Path to Glory.

The son of Magnus revealed to him that his father had been chosen as the champion of the Gods by their own emissaries on a world whose name is not fit for mortals to speak, chosen as a weapon to strike down the Emperor, who desired to shackle the soul of Mankind to destroy the Gods, not realizing that he would only cause its destruction at the hands of the Gods themselves.

While it was possible for some, especially valued by the Gods, to walk the Fourfold Path to Glory, most however could not, for they were faced by a choice to be made.

 _"_ _For the Chosen Ones, freedom in the service of the Gods._

 _For those who seek to use Chaos for their own gain, eternal damnation or timeless oblivion._

 _All others have to choose a side in the Great Game, become a champion of one of the Four... or defy and oppose the Gods…and burn in the fires of their wrath, as their souls burn eternally."_ –Phosis T'Kar, First Chapter of the Book of Utipa. (declared Hereticus Maxima by the Inquisition, 134.M31)

Hashin Yonnad, Master of the 39th Chapter of the Imperial Fists, eventually made his choice, and Phosis T'Kar anointed him a Champion of Tzeentch. In the pact, he gained psychic powers, awakening his connection to the Warp. He studied the Geomortis discipline's power and used them to manipulate the very earth of Necromunda, turning it into the perfect fortress. No one could dare to assail it and win. The very land would rise up in daemonic golems of rock and assail them without respite, ever reforming themselves.

The Champion of the God of Change had purged his domain, the one he had conquered so many years before, of all who were still loyal to the Emperor. He ordered the billions of citizens of Necromunda to enroll in the Necromundan Spiders. His Chapter's warriors were all pledged to the Lord of Change, and the Cult of Magnus was gaining traction among the civilian population, which had created the Militia of the Enlightened Ones to support the Traitor war effort by purging all suspected followers of the Terran Aquila. With such forces available to him, he was certain that no one could take Necromunda, not even Leman Russ and his Wolves.

He had sent the newly trained regiments to the Inwit Cluster where his Primarch would deploy them to the frontlines across the galaxy, bleeding the Loyalists on many battlefields. Yet, now the battlefield would be his own domain.

His spies had told him that the Second Warmaster himself was coming to attack Necromunda, the last major Traitor stronghold in Segmentum Solar.

He felt comfortable. Let him come. He will drown in his own sons' blood and be forced to fall back in shame before the power of Tzeentch….

-Aboard the _Reaper's Scythe_ , flagship of the Death Guard. -

Mortarion stood in the command center of the _Reaper's Scythe, his secondary flagship._ He had left the Endurance back in Sol, to serve as command ship for all Navy assets in the system. If Traitors ever tried to attack Terra again, the ship's firepower could make the difference.

Once, the ship had been like any other Battle Barge built in the Deimos Shipyards for the Death Guard. A tank, made to outlast anything it might come in combat with. It had gained glory in the wars against the Orks and in countless Compliance actions, even resisting a two-hundred ships strong attack from the Eldar of Craftworld Mor'rioh'I, in the Shedim Drifts. Then-Warmaster Horus Lupercal had wished to "face the Eldar in honorable battle", falling in an Eldar decoy operation, searching for them in a deserted system, leaving the Death Guard alone against the mighty Eldar ships. The insane endurance of the Fourteenth Legion gave the Eldar pause, and the xenos withdrew after fulfilling their main objective: ensuring their Craftworld had successfully escaped through the Webway to see another day. The Eldar of Mor'rioh'I even sent his Legion a ceremonial knife, to signify that the Death Guard had been "a foe worthy of their respect."

The fiasco in the Shedim Drifts had led Mortarion to lodge a complaint against Horus Lupercal, declaring that "his obsession for glory had cost the lives of many valiant sons of Barbarus". The Heresy erupted before anything could be done about it, however. Sometimes, Mortarion thought about it, and wondered what would have happened, had he and Horus remained close friends. Sometimes, he even asked himself whether Horus could have ever convinced him to betray the Imperium...

He crushed those thoughts. _What could have been does not matter._ Only what is …does matter.

Warmaster Mortarion again observed the target planet: Necromunda.

A planet, 5% smaller than Terra, with a life-supporting atmosphere. Conquered by the Imperial Fists before 850.M30, it was a world of sprawling hive-cities, with a population numbering in the billions. The Necromundan Spiders Army Regiments, numbering in the thousands, were waging war on all fronts against the Loyalists, under the direction of the Seventh Legion. It was a powerhouse of the Traitor Army.

Mortarion's plan required a massive offensive against Necromunda' s Orbital Defense Grid, which would be assaulted by boarding actions, then be turned on the world below. Millions would die, as well as many of his sons, but the productive power of Necromunda will be returned to the Imperium. Still, there was one thing that troubled him. The Alpha Legion had attempted to attack the world through their unconventional tactics, but the contingent they had sent had failed…in a rare failure for the Twentieth Legion. So he had launched a spy ship to remotely observe the world, to understand what kind of defenses were capable of besting even the sons of Alpharius.

As he observed through pict-satellite readings the population building massive statues, he at first did not understand what they were doing…then the high-resolution picts came in, and he realized _who_ the enormous statues were made to honor. There was only one being famous in the entire galaxy...who had one eye instead of two.

Magnus the Red. The billions of people on Necromunda were building giant statues to honor the Arch-Traitor, worshipping him as a God.

He activated the vox-link of the spy-ship, to try and listen to the population's ritual prayers. Even many years later, the Second Warmaster would wish he had never done that, such was the sheer madness of what he heard.

 _"Hail Magnus the Red, He who revealed the truth to the galaxy. He who musters the believers, and purges those who cling to ignorance._

 _Hail Magnus..." and on and on..._

He then saw the ritual sacrifice of nine suspected Loyalists, who actually were just people in the wrong place at the wrong time, found in a room with an undestroyed Aquila. The mob had convicted them on the spot and sentenced them to death. Their death were broadcast all over the planet through an ancient pict-transmission technology developed by the Continuity centuries before.

Mortarion then _felt_ , through the sixth sense he desperately wished would just disappear, the Warp presence on Necromunda. He felt Hashin Yonnad's soul, awash with daemonic power, the power of one of the Four Powers Malcador had warned him he would face. The world was deep into corruption…and Mortarion knew it was beyond recovery at that point.

He recalculated the casualty figures for his Legion, factoring in the clearly Traitor population and the presence of the Warp. His eidetic brain simply saw the casualty figure skyrocket, up in the tens of thousands. Way more than his Legion could afford. Way more than he was ready to give.

He ordered his attached Munitorum officer to calculate how the food shipments destined for Necromunda from the Loyalist Agri-Worlds would impact Terra's food situation. The result was that the Terran population would have four more months of food if _all_ shipments were rerouted.

Satisfied with the answer, Mortarion changed plans. Summoning his first wave leaders on the vox, he gave an order he never thought would give.

"This is Scythe Command to first wave ships. Abort attack."

"Lord…"

"Do as I said. Abort. Fall back to defensive positions around the Reaper's Scythe."

"Yes sir."-The vox link was cut.

The first line ships, about to reach firing range, withdrew, repositioning themselves in defensive formations around the Death Guard's Battleships.

 _Is this what you want, you Sorcerer? To be worshipped by ignorant masses as an all-powerful God, feeding on the devotion of foolish people? Is this what your New Kingdom is all about?_

 _Well…. I will send you and Dorn a reminder. There is no one, and certainly not you, who is worthy of such a title…and one day, my scythe shall meet your head. We will see then if you are as powerful as you claim._

Mortarion activated his personal vox-unit, contacting the selected personnel manning a secret weapon installed on the ship.

After the battle in the Shedim Drifts against the Eldar, the _Reaper's Scythe_ had been rebuilt, rearmored and armed with one of the most devastating weapons ever built by Mankind.

A Cyclothrathe Pattern Mark I Axial Trans-Bosonic Laser Generator.

The Death Guard called it simply…The Laser.

Built by using scavenged Mitu Conglomerate technology from a crashed alien battleship, the Laser was so massive (due to Mechanicum failings in correctly determining how the xenos successfully dispersed the power buildup) that it had to be housed in a spinal configuration inside a Battle Barge. Moreover, the power needs required for its usage requested the Battle Barge power down all other weapons during its charging sequence, leaving it vulnerable to an attack.

The unmatched firepower it could provide however more than made up for its unprecedented power requirements. The tests conducted in the lifeless solar systems near Barbarus confirmed it, exceeding the most optimistic expectations.

The _Reaper's Scythe_ was one of the first Battle-Barges to be retrofitted with one. Originally, the Fourteenth Primarch planned for it to be installed only on some selected test-bed battleships…but now he feared it would have to be used quite often, alongside other WMDs researched by Cyclothrathe and some selected Forge Worlds loyal to the Death Guard.

Today would be _the first time the Laser would be fired in anger against a target. He had expected such an occasion to arise against xenos, such as the Orks, or an Eldar Craftworld. Never would he have thought he would have to use it against a human world, let alone one such as Necromunda._

"Laser Control, this is Warmaster Mortarion."

"Laser Control reporting."

"Arm the weapon. Target Necromunda itself. Full power discharge."

"Yes, sir." There was a hint of hesitation in the Laser Control Supervisor's voice. Mortarion did not care. Every human would hesitate upon seeing such a weapon, let alone being ordered to fire it upon fellow humans.

The Laser Control crew began to reroute power from the main fusion reactors to the Bosonic Laser Generator. The engines of the Reaper's Scythe flickered and died, their power siphoned off to feed the voracious superweapon.

Mortarion observed the readout of the power charging sequence of the Laser. Now, all the Death Guard fleet had to do was deceive the Imperial Fists and, failing that, defend the flagship until the charging sequence was completed. And then…watch the destruction unfold.

 _10% charge. Power rerouted from Main Fusion Engines._

The Imperial Fists fleet noticed the Death Guard ships retreating. And cheered, hoping to spread the news of the sons of Mortarion cowering in fear before their fortress and retreating with their tails between their legs.

Hashin Yonnad was worried, however. Mortarion never left battle without a damn good reason…

"Lord Yonnad. We are detecting a massive power buildup inside the Death Guard flagship!"

"What kind of power?"

"Unknown. It does not match any known patterns. Huge traces of Bosonic particles!"

Bosonic particles...odd. He had heard those words before, years before…

"Call the Chief Tech-Adept. He must know about this. All ships, prepare for battle!"

The Seventh Legion's 39th Chapter readied for battle, arraying themselves in a Zwoenced-pattern Shield formation, made to defend against a charging foe. Mortarion noticed it.

 _Good. Let them think we are readying for a massed charge._

"Laser Control here. Charging sequence at 30%. Primary Trans-Bosonic Generators are coming online."

"Very well. Attack Craft, take a stationary position around the fleet. Arm your weapons, but do not engage. Let them think we will charge simultaneously their line as one."

"Copy that, Scythe Command."

Meanwhile, on Necromunda, the Tech-Adept reached the Command Center.

"Adept Kion-112 at your service, Lord Yonnad."

"What are the Death Guard doing up there? Give me some answers!"

The Tech-Adept pored over the data gathered by the satellites and the Auspexes…and did the machine equivalent of a shocked expression.

"Im-impossible…"

"Explain yourself, Adept."

"These are clearly Trans-Bosonic Generators! They were xeno weapons developed by the Mitu Conglomerate centuries ago! The Mechanicum never succeeded in understanding the underlying physical principles… …unless…"

"Unless what?"

"There was a grave incident in 994.M30. The Forge World of Cyclothrathe had succeeded in reverse-engineering some Mitu technology without sharing their studies with Holy Mars

The Holy World sent a fleet to recover the weapons, but they were destroyed during delivery in an accident. I now calculate a 59.23773% probability that Cyclothrathe deceived the emissaries of Mars. They must pay for their blasphemy towards the Omnissiah!"

"What can these weapons do?"

"With ship-mounted Bosonic cannons, uncertainty is rampant. The data recovered from the Mitu archives and the Administratum reports of the destruction of that xeno race is fragmentary… but I can estimate that, with sufficient power generation techniques, and the appropriate containment measures in place…."

"Speak, Adept. We do not have all day."

"…the Death Guard may be able to destroy an entire Terra-sized planet."

Hashin Yonnad was stunned. _The Imperium could not destroy Necromunda._ Such an Industrial-Hive World could rival the output of some Quartum-Grade Forge Worlds. Its possession was key on the Inwitian Front. Billions of people lived on it, and such manpower reserves, were an expensive resource in and of themselves in this War. A stock worthy for Legion induction was an even rarer commodity…

The Imperium would not destroy Necromunda. It was equally valuable to both sides and every general would recognize that the strategic situation dictated such a prize had to be taken as intact as possible…

….then he remembered one thing. He was not facing Horus, or Fulgrim, or Vulkan, who would try to win a war with the least civilian casualties, for different reasons (Horus because of his focus on decapitation strikes, Fulgrim because he wished to wage perfect campaigns, Vulkan because of his diplomatic skills and his attachment to ordinary humans the Seventh Legion had always found…odd.

He was facing Mortarion, a Primarch who cared nothing about personal honor, and who led a Legion shaped in his image. All Mortarion cared about was achieving total victory…

 _…_ _.and what more total a victory than the complete annihilation of a heavily-defended Traitor stronghold in a single shot?!_

Hashin Yonnad hastily raised the fleet in orbit, cursing his foolishness.

"All ships, charge the Death Guard fleet! Attack them without pause!"

"But sir, if we go towards them, we will lose the cover of our Planetary Defense Grid!"

"If that weapon they are charging right now fires and the bolt-head here is right, there won't be a planet to defend! ATTACK NOW!"

"Yes, my lord."

Hashin Yonnad then used his sorcerous powers to teleport himself and his Cataphractii Terminator Guard to his flagship, the Battle Barge _Legate._

"Raise Void Shields! Charge the enemy fleet! Defense Grid, destroy any enemy ships that gets inside your range!"

The Seventh Legion fleet fired its engines and moved towards the Death Guard. Yonnad realized this battle was not favourable to him, but if he could stop that weapon, he could force Mortarion to fight a conventional battle of attrition, where the Seventh could gain an advantage...

Warmaster Mortarion saw the maneuver and realized the Fists had probably understood what he was trying to do. The ruse was discovered.

"Laser Control, what is your status?"

"59% charge. Secondary generators coming online. All systems within normal parameters."

"The Fists have discovered our plan. Can you speed up the sequence?"

"Not without risking catastrophic misfires. This is the first wartime firing of the Laser, sir. It is too risky, in our opinion."

Mortarion exhaled. Time was running against him…but he decided to trust in the judgment of those who had tested the weapon countless times, both in simulated and in actual test firings. Contrarily to what Magnus the Red and Lorgar thought of him, _he was not an ignorant fool_. He _had_ studied the history of ancient Terra. He had learned haste had been the ruin of countless generals.

He just knew what to study and _what to definitely stay away from_.

"Do everything you can. We will keep them away from you. I will direct fleet operations. I give you the authorization to fire the weapon _the exact second you complete the firing sequence_."

"Copy that, sir."

"To all ships and Attack Craft protect the flagship, no matter what it takes!"

The war-cries of the Fourteenth Legion resonated through the vox.

 _"_ _For the Emperor! Death to the Red Cyclops!"-the warcry of all Loyalists after the Dusk Coup._

 _"_ _For Barbarus and Terra!"-signifying the unity between the Terrans and the Barbarusian parts of the Legion, which Mortarion wanted to seamlessly unite into one body._

The first to enter the fight were fighters and the bombers, launched by Carriers. Colliding with each other, bullets flew in the void, some finding their target, some drifting in the blackness of space. Point defense guns across the Death Guard ships flared to life, attempting to shoot down all fighters making their way towards the _Reaper's Scythe_. None ever came closer to the ship than two kilometres.

Then Cruisers joined the fray, with the _Legate_ 's battleship division powering up their weapons, being not far behind.

 _80% charge..._

Three Death Guard cruisers were swept away by the mad charge of the Fists cruisers, which was stopped in its tracks by the Grand Cruiser battlegroup commanded by Malig Laestygon. The old warships stopped the cruiser charge, but a Traitor bomber squadron successfully got a hit upon a Vengeance's engines, stopping it dead in its tracks. The ship, heavily damaged, fired its Emergency thrusters, slamming into a Traitor Lance Cruiser, snapping it in two through brute kinetic force and then careened into a Seventh Legion Carrier, destroying both vessels.

The bombers then headed straight for the _Reaper's Scythe_ , firing Heavy Missiles at it. For a moment the battle hinged on a knife-edge…

….until a Sword-class frigate of the escort screen moved to intercept, absorbing the missiles through its intact void shields.

"This is Laser Control. 90% charge! Necromunda in range! Necromunda in range! Firing sequence initiated! Reaching 100% power in ten seconds!"

Mortarion's face was outwardly immobile. Inwardly, anxiety was gripping both his hearts. It was a novel sensation for him…

 _Just a little longer…._

Then from nothing, a Traitor fighter squadron, the Red Spiders, appeared, charging straight at the Death Guard flagship.

 _No! Not like this!_

"Shoot them down!" He ordered, not realizing he had shouted those words aloud, surprising the bridge crew.

Mortarion's internal anxiety skyrocketed, and he desired to strangle those pilots with his bare hands…

And then…the impossible happened. A Death Guard interceptor squadron believed destroyed due to enemy fire miraculously appeared and destroyed a fighter…and it careened into another, destroying both and sending the remaining ones out of the way.

"100% charge. Laser fully charged! We are ready to fire! Commencing primary ignition!"

The Laser control gun crew pulled the manual controls, the lever coming down as a judge's hammer to sentence a world to death.

The Trans-Bosonic generator converted the harnessed particles into a new physical state, then it concentrated them into a single, massive, coherent beam. The Beam left the bow of the _Reaper's Scythe._ A single, massive red beam of light, traveling at near-superluminal speed towards Necromunda.

On its path there was a Seventh Legion Emperor-class Battleship. The ship was cut into two by the red beam of death, bisected from bow to stern like paper, the beam continuing on as if the ship wasn't even there.

The beam met Necromunda's Defense Grid and slammed into its surface.

Captain Alexis Pollux and his Separate Fleet, which had just exited the Warp at the Mandeville Point to reinforce the fleet stationed at Necromunda, saw the devastating effects of the weapon wrought by xeno knowledge, and used by transhuman hands.

All of Necromunda's tectonic plates ruptured simultaneously under the sheer power of the blast, creating massive earthquakes and volcanic eruptions which melted hive cities and the manufactoria built by Mankind in millennia ….in seconds. People all around the planet screamed their last in terror, whether full-blown Traitor, sympathizer or neutral.

Then the crust turned to molten lava, which became submerged into the underlying mantle, which then began to melt as well, quickly beginning to evaporate in fractions of seconds.

The planet then began imploding upon itself.

Then finally the arcane particle beam reached the iron core, and caused a massive thermonuclear detonation as nuclear fusion temperature (100.000.000 degrees on the ancient Celsius scale) was achieved. A massive shockwave erupted. Necromunda simply had _ceased to be._

The shockwave was so powerful it vaporized the Defense Grid Installations and the hundred-ship strong Reserve Fleet of the Araneus Sector, which Hashin Yonnad had left behind to act as a last line of defense for Necromunda.

Across the Traitor fleet, the Legionaries and the human crew, their hearts hardened by the betrayal they had committed against the Imperium, were frozen in shock at the sheer devastation wrought by the Lord of Death.

Not even Hashin Yonnad, a Champion of Tzeentch, was immune to such feelings…

 _This is not Exterminatus. This is xeno barbarity of the highest order. Not even the birth-world of the Second One, He whose name was lost to all, was sentenced to… this. Leman Russ is many things, but even he would not commit such a deed._

 _If the sons of Mortarion were ready to commit such atrocities on human worlds, just because the population had seen the Primordial Truth and accepted the words of Magnus the Red, the Eternal Illuminator…then the war may not see the triumph of the New Kingdom or the Imperium._

 _It may see the end of all life. No hope. No rebirth in the Primordial Truth. Just death. If Mortarion had joined the Traitors, they could have won the war in a heartbeat…_

The Death Guard saw the opening and launched themselves at the Seventh Legion, like a killer whale pack seeing an easy kill.

The surviving fleet decided to return to Inwit, as the Death Guard outnumbered them 4-to-1.

Yonnad then ordered the Legate to head for the Mandeville Point, while the _Tribune_ 's fleet used a Light Cruiser group to launch a diversionary attack, hoping to divert the Death Guard's attention.

Mortarion saw the feint three seconds before it was going to happen, and ordered a Disruption torpedo barrage.

The Traitor cruisers were disabled, powerless as the boarding teams led by the Nemesis Chapter Squads tore into them.

The main fleet of the Death Guard did not even slow down, launching itself at the _Legate_ 's escort group.

The _Legate_ fired its main Lances… and the armor of the Death Guard ships wasn't even dented, their void shields effortlessly absorbing the energy waves.

The Fourteenth Legion's Boarding Squads then entered action, their Dreadclaw Drop Pods puncturing the Imperial Fists' ships and slaughtering its crew wholesale. The Second Warmaster himself led the boarding actions. None could stand before his wrath. Humans and Astartes alike fell, scythed away by Unyielding Will.

Yonnad used his psychic powers to contact his protégé and sorcerous apprentice, Alexis Polux, who was pushing the _Tribune_ 's engines to their limits.

"Alexis, get all ships you can and run. Now."

"Not without you. We can intercept them, we can…"

"No. I yield command of the surviving fleet to you. Lead all survivors to Inwit to Rogal Dorn. I will keep them here."

"Master Yonnad…"

"I lost Necromunda. This is clearly a sign of the God of Change. My Path to Glory ends here. My time on the chessboard of fate is passed. You have still a part to play, however. I sense your fate will be glorious. Go….and when your next battle begins, kill as many as you can in my name."

Alexis Polux was speechless. He felt no words of his could fully express what was passing through his mind. Such words could come from one who had truly mastered the words of the Ever-Changing God.

"Yes, Master. For the Great Mutator. May your fate change once more."

The link was then cut.

Hashin Yonnad pulled out his Power Sword and readied for the inevitable Death Guard assault. Despite having mastered the Ninety-Nine Enchantments of Ti'Lath, he relished the prospect of fighting a bolter and chainsword battle.

The door exploded…and a Castraferrum Dreadnought rushed in, opening fire with its Flamers. He bore the name Karriam on his chassis.

"DIE!"

The Seventh Legion Fleet Master used his sorcery to deflect the fire around the bridge, incinerating some human crewmembers, but sparing the Astartes. Which charged the Dreadnought, trying to kill it while it was distracted. A Death Guard Assault Marine launched himself at Yonnad, but the Fleet Master summoned a wave of sorcerous power which turned him into liquid sludge.

He then charged the Dreadnought, and used sorcery to attempt to remotely seize control of it. The Death Guard veteran's mind was strong, stronger than he had anticipated, but Yonnad used the 91st Phrase of Power, which blew his ancient Mark II Power Armour to pieces, but he successfully subjugated the old warrior's mind. He then maneuvered it like a puppet, using its Flamers against the Death Guard. He reveled in the slaughter, rejoicing in the horror his sorcery was eliciting in the sons of Barbarus.

He then felt his concentration slip away, despite his iron will. He tried to find out why…and then noticed his left leg was no longer where it should have been.

He fell on the bridge floor. The Dreadnought followed suit, crushing some human soldiers as it fell.

As he looked up he saw Mortarion, holding the smoking _Lantern._

He then saw the Death Guard's Deathshroud slay the Terminator veterans of the Seventh…and then Mortarion was upon him.

"His name was Maxilial Karriam. Born on Barbarus. A veteran of many campaigns. He fought with his arms…and then with his arm-mounted Heavy Weapons, after an Ork Warboss took them away. He deserved to die in a last stand, circled by hundreds of slain enemies…not to be soul-murdered by a Traitor and used as a puppet through foul sorcery."

The Primarch shot off both of Yonnad's arms, and his remaining leg.

He then lifted the Sorcerer-Fleet Master up, choking his neck.

"Why? How could you, a valiant Astartes, forsake the Imperium…to become a wielder of such witchcraft ?"

Yonnad chuckled. "Because the Imperium….is a lie. The future is in the hands of the psyker…You can accept it…or be swept away by the hurricane of change…. And remembered as a fool."

Then he could say no more, as Mortarion snapped his neck, then ripped his head from its shoulders, with the spinal cord still attached.

He then contemptuously tossed them to the floor. He said four words, so soft no one could hear them. " _Not on my watch_."

He then turned to his sons. "Send for the Magos. Purge the ship. And …. shoot them into the sun." He said, motioning towards the dead Fists.

The destruction of Necromunda sent the galaxy reeling, as Astropaths all around the Imperium were sent reeling by the devastation. Many simply died, frozen in shock. Psykers all around the galaxy went mad with visions of death and terror.

More than 20 billion lives…snuffed out in a moment. The Astronomican itself was darkened for three seconds, during which Navigators and Possessed Marines alike were briefly disoriented. Even the Champions of the Gods of Chaos were forced to take notice of the event.

Many worlds which had chosen to use the Heresy to reassert their independence were victims of counter-coups by those whose loyalty to the Imperium had suddenly reignited in the wake of the destruction.

Many others chose to stick with the Traitors, their devotion to the cause deepened, and occasionally reinforced by the Necromundan Army Regiments stationed upon them, which burned with vengeance. The Thousand Sons and the World Eaters attempted to use the Destruction for propaganda gains, with some success in a few isolated Sectors, away from the presence of the Death Guard.

The Destruction of Necromunda made clear one thing.

There would be no surrender, no retreat.

There would be only Loyalists and Traitors, to the death.


	15. Chapter 15: The War of the Raven

CHAPTER 15: The Sons of the Raven Strike

 _"_ _"The First Axiom of Victory is to be other than where the enemy desire you to be. The First Axiom of Stealth is to be other than where the enemy believes you to be."-Corvus Corax._

 _Excerpts from the Rolls of Liberated Worlds, a 3022-book long treatise detailing the actions of the Raven Guard during the Heresy and the Great Purification._

A New Kingdom.

That is what Magnus the Red promised to humanity when he tore off the mask of loyalty and attacked Terra with a psychic wave of destruction, while four Legions murdered their best and brightest in the fires of Ancalimon and the Dark Angels began their quest for a Calibanite Empire, ruled by "the superior race", the First Legion.

A kingdom of peace, a haven of freedom and illumination.

To us, sons of Corvus Corax, liberator of Kiavahr and Lycaeus, it seemed like more of the same.

The lash, the chains, the servitude from which the Imperium had freed large parts of humanity were now back in place on countless worlds, and the heroes of yesterday were those who firmly held the chain and the lash in their hands.

As happened too many times during the millennia-old history of Mankind, "The hero had become the conqueror."

Nine Legions of Astartes, created to bring freedom to humanity, have embraced the cause of Magnus the Red, who sought to topple the Emperor, aiming to be a God-King, ruling over the New Humanity he envisions.

Our Legion exists to destroy such tyrants and teach them that every tyranny based on fear and oppression will eventually fall and be destroyed by the vengeful hand of the oppressed.

As happened to the Tech-Guilds of Kiavahr, as happened to the xeno-lords of Barbarus, as happened to countless xeno and human overlords during the Crusade, this will happen to the Traitors.

Not for us, however, the massed infantry tactics and the Planet-Killing Superweapons of the Second Warmaster's legion.

We are the blade coming from the dark.

 _From darkness we strike, and after the deed…darkness there, and nothing more._

* * *

After the Massacre of Ancalimon Prime and the attack on Terra by Magnus the Red, our legion dispersed around the galaxy, searching for planets occupied by the Traitors and freeing them. With the Night Lords held up near their homeworld by the Eldar armies, we shouldered the burden of such duties, alongside the Alpha Legion.

Thousands of worlds fell to the advance of the armies of Magnus the Red and his brothers. Others swore themselves to the Arch-Traitor or to his representatives of their own will, eager to be free from the Imperium without realizing they were swearing their souls to far more malicious forces.

Some, such as Necromunda, were so deeply corrupted they could not be saved. Those we left to the Death Guard, who would give them the release of death, _the only freedom they could receive after giving up their souls to creatures born of dark sorcery,_ according to the sons of Barbarus.

Thousands of them, however, could yet be saved. And the Raven Guard sought them out to bring deliverance and salvation.

Many of those worlds were left in the hands of mortal occupation armies, while the Astartes fought on the frontier, or given to second-line Astartes troops, while the best warriors of the enemy were tied up on the frontlines.

Others were instead given over or conquered and held by Traitor Mechanicum units. Those we hated the most.

On those we focused most of our efforts in the War of the Raven.

Our first major action, one that we had waited for a long time, was the Fall of Sertakov.

Sertakov III was a Secundus Grade Forge World of the Mechanicum. Located to the southeast of the Maelstrom, it was a traditionalist bulwark. Brought into Compliance by the Martian forces fifteen years prior to the beginning of the Heresy, it relied upon a Feudal World located in the same system to provide it with slaves and Servitor materials, required to mine raw materials and assemble their Taghmata.

The Raven Guard had always disliked that world, for its uncanny resemblance to the old Kiavahrian regime.

After Ancalimon, Sertakov III had been one of the first Forge Worlds to pledge fealty to the Arch-Traitor, turning their production capabilities to the Traitor warmachine.

It was too tempting for the Nineteenth. At last, the brutal Sertakov Mechanicum would feel the blades of the Nineteenth.

The world was however heavily defended by the Taghmata of the World, and also by a Blackshield warband pacted to the Forge World, led by the Iron Hand turncoat, Captain Illarios of Clan Kadoran.

So we chose for it …the death by a thousand cuts.

-Airolen System-

The Airolean Rifles were a standard Army regiment. After their world, located deep into the Ultima Segmentum, had been brought into Compliance by the Ultramarines' 1247th Expeditionary Fleet, their world tithed a part of their standing army to serve in the Crusade.

After Ancalimon and the Treachery at Port Maw, the Rifles returned to their world…as conquerors in the name of Magnus the Red. The Ultramarines had revolted, and they could not do anything but follow suit.

The world was quickly subjugated, with the Rifles' commanding officer, General Ferus Fernandez, proclaiming himself leader of the System.

The people of the world were forced into complete servitude, with the General's regime controlling every aspect of their lives. Any form of reverence towards the Aquila was punished by immediate relocation to concentration camps located on the tenth planet of the system, where they would be worked to death extracting valuable raw materials, to be shipped to the Forge World of Sertakov III. Many convicts were also shipped there, for conversion to Kataphron Battle Servitors.

A perfect target for the sons of Deliverance, born of those who lived in the dungeons of what was once called Lycaeus.

-Airolean Capital City-

General Ferus Fernandez sat upon his throne, and reexamined his accountant's reports on mineral production.

A mere 31% increase in Promethium extraction. Unacceptable.

He knew the Tech-Lords of Sertakov would want much more. They had entire armoured divisions of Stormblades Mark II awaiting that Promethium for delivery to Magnus' armies in the Prosperine Dominion for use against the Loyalists.

They would not countenance any further delay in production.

If their demands would remain unfulfilled, they would send one of their Iron Hands… _to take over operations._

And Ferus Fernandez would not have it. Getting his face in a close encounter with an Astartes bolter was not an experience he wanted to have anytime soon.

"Minister of Industry, this is your Leader. I order you to increase Promethium yield by 53% more."

"But sir…we do not have enough personnel for the mines. We have reached peak capacity…"

"Find it. I authorize you to use random civilians as well for mining works."

"But my lord….what are… **aaaaaaaah!** "

"Minister! What is happening?"

A voice behind him answered. "He is having a ...conversation... with my Battle-Brother, General. I think he will be unavailable for a long time."

 _Battle-Brother….no! Sertakov must have sent here their Astartes attack dogs to replace me._

"I told you I am doing as much as I can to increase the Promethium yield from those mines! You must give me more time!"

"I am afraid your time is up…. Traitor."

 _Traitor? What_ …

General Ferus Fernandez slowly turned and saw the Astartes he was talking to did not have any bionic enhancement. He instead saw the albino-white face and the black corvine hair of the Nineteenth Legion.

And most importantly, a Mark VI armor upon whose Shoulder-Plate was inscribed the White Raven. A symbol that promised Death To Tyrants.

"Good evening, General. I am Sergeant Eonirke of the Nineteenth Legion, 11th Company. Your time has come."

The General tried to grab his sidearm but the Raven Guard disappeared….and reappeared with it in his hand.

"Too slow." The Astartes crushed the sidearm with his fist.

Sergeant Eonirke then grabbed the human and brought him to the balcony of his Palace. A Nineteenth Legion Sword-class Frigate was visible in the Airolean sky.

It was what was _below_ that terrified the General.

Thousands of ragged humans, all bearing the standard issue uniform of the mining camps. All those he had jailed for Loyalism or petty offenses and sent to the mining moon.

"One hour ago, your lagers were forced open by our Scouts. The people inside were reduced to bare bones. We freed them and gave them something to eat from our Legion rations. Not much…but to them it was more than enough. Now look at the squares."

Ferus looked…and saw the statues he had built to himself in the central squares of the city, being toppled by the vengeful population.

"Your petty regime is dead. Now…it is your turn to die."

Eonirke activated his jet-pack and jumped off the balcony. As he landed, he threw the General to the population.

He did not last more than twenty-five seconds, torn to pieces by the angry mob, whose long-contained rage was at last loosed.

On that day, the people of the world chose to demolish all examples of warfare and violence, and to become an Agri-World, devoted to the creation of food for all.

To this day, the people of the Agri-World of Airolen are exempted from Imperial Guard tithe. They instead give their sons to the Raven Guard, those who had liberated them from the most brutal regime their world had ever seen.

* * *

This was the first of the cuts.

It would be followed by many more, as the petty dictators which ruled the worlds which made up Sertakov's supply chain fell one by one to the wrath of the Raven Guard's 11th Company.

Finally, on 032.008.M31, our fleet arrived in orbit of Sertakov III. By then, the Traitors had realized they had lost, but planned to fight to the bitter end. Some Magi of the local Synod however were not keen on dying and overrode the circuitry of the Skitarii armies, shutting down their army in exchange for their lives.

The Blackshield Iron Hands fled aboard a captured Mechanicum warship, hounded by our Fighters. Cowards. How could they be sons of the Gorgon?

We executed the world's leaders and freed the Loyalist Magi from the dungeons. Those who had surrendered were exiled to a moon inside the system, under strict Loyal Mechanicum oversight. Sertakov III now belonged to the Imperium again. Its armoured divisions would fight under the Aquila, under Clan Morragul of the Iron Hands and the Raven Guard armoured forces of the Therion Cohort.

We would have wanted to see it burn down. But strategy called for all worlds still not irremediably lost to madness to be saved. Forge Worlds, with their massive output, were a priority target to take as intact as possible.

We would stay our wrath…for now.

 _After Magnus' death…. well, things will be different._

* * *

On many worlds, we simply used the resentment of the population against the Traitor rulers. In their haste to put together a working warmachine, the Traitors imposed impossible quotas upon the populations under their thrall.

The Traitor Astartes already thought of the mortals as inferior, the Dark Angels being the most striking example. All we had to do was a simple decapitation strike: kill the rulers as visibly as possible, and the population would rise up and do the rest.

But there were some foes which were capable of opposing the tactics of our Legion effectively.

One of these was the Twelfth Legion.

* * *

\- Vesten System-

The Vesten system was a model of the Imperium. Brought into the Imperium through diplomacy by the Blood Angels, it was a nine-world star system, orbiting a single K-type star. It was a peaceful system, which had never seen an attack by either pirates or xenos after Compliance. Until 007.M31.

The system came in the sights of the World Eaters Cruiser, the _Tuspen_.

Aboard there were 400 Astartes, led by Captain Tagrim, of the 24th Liberation (World Eaters name for Assault) Company.

The World Eaters used their charismatic Nucerian iterators to boost the desire for separatism inside the population. A desire which not even they realized existed.

The World Eaters took the world in a bloodless revolution, supported by the cheering population.

Our forces, in this case the 24th Company, could not find a way to easily infiltrate the planet and kill the local rulers. They were soon replaced by others, and the attempt to kill the World Eater Captain failed when the civilians threw themselves against our kill-team as human shields, allowing the World Eaters to get close and butcher them. The sight of Scout Sergeant Mosarro Thova rendered into pieces by Chainaxes was one our Company will never forget.

Thus we were forced to commit to a conventional campaign, using our Armoured Forces.

Our Land Raiders columns were faced by a strong and determined defense from the world's population, which used primitive Rocket Launchers not unlike those we had seen in Ork hands to face them. One did not even dent the vehicles' armour. But they had thousands.

After the Land Raiders were repelled, with nine of the precious vehicles left burning, we had to deploy the Fellblades.

The Accelerator Cannons made swift work at long range of many Traitor Militia bunkers, allowing our forces to proceed. But in the end, the Traitors holed themselves up in the capital city, which was protected by a Void Shield Generator.

No tanks could get in and hope to survive in the maze of streets and buildings.

In the end, it fell to our Mor Deythan to destroy the city, by smuggling in a thermonuclear warhead-tipped torpedo and detonating it below the center of the city.

The devastation was complete. Nothing remained of the city.

Victory, yes…but in our Legion's eyes, it was hollow.

* * *

Our worst enemies were however the White Scars and the Thousand Sons.

The sons of the Khan had the capability to induce madness into all people through what they called the Words of Heaven. Their Khorchin cults, made of raving psychopaths, spelled doom for many of our missions, aborted before they could even begin.

These people had no longer any idea of what meant being human. They had given themselves over to the things that dwelled in the Warp, and would resist any of our hit and run missions, their minds warped beyond recognition, forcing the Nineteenth Legion into brutal wars of attrition it was -and still is-ill-suited for.

In many cases, our Legion was faced by White Scars offensives and had to withdraw. Their Stormseers' abilities and their utter insanity proved to be more than a match for many tacticians of the Loyalists.

Upon the battlefields of the Heresy, after seeing the Disaster at Cac-Wzon , where the Thousand Sons had intercepted the Astropathic communications of the 232nd Imperial Army Group and relayed the information to Jaghatai Khan, who rushed to meet it, Corax, looking upon the mountains of dead bodies of the 232nd Loyalist Army, which numbered in the hundreds of thousands, overrun by the White Scars, butchered, flayed alive and their skins used to write unholy prayers and left to float in the winds "to carry the winds of the Immortal Heaven to all" , swore eternal enmity between the Fifth and the Nineteenth Legions.

 _"_ _We shall not rest until every single son of Chogoris is dead."_ —Corvus Corax, excerpt from the Oath at Cac-Wzon.

The oath still stands to this day, ten thousands years later.

The Thousand Sons were those most dangerous to face. The sons of the Arch-Traitor were few in number…but each of them was more dangerous than an army of Stormseers.

They used forbidden knowledge to corrupt the minds and the souls of countless men, and not even Astartes were immune to this.

The tragic tale of Szorian Tigaddas of the Raven Guard is a stark example.

Once Captain of the 19th Company, he had the misfortune of being captured alive by the Sorcerer Tolbek.

Tolbek killed and brought him back from the dead dozens of times over and over again, every death eroding his sanity and replacing it with unholy knowledge until nothing remained.

He then became the Sorcerer's bodyguard, protecting him across countless warzones, defeating even some of our Moritats.

During the Purification, our Primarch, who had hunted him down as a Traitor, finally cornered him on Asuni V and tore him apart with his Lightning Claws.

The words he whispered before dying would move Corax to tears, for his blows had released his soul from Tolbek's bondage, and, in his last seconds, was the hero of the Great Crusade he had been.

 _"_ _Thank you father…for this time…I will not be coming back."-Last words of Szorian Tigaddas_.

The bulk of our forces, along with our Primarch, were however held up near Deliverance. The reason was that Traitor, Rogal Dorn, and his Inwit Cluster. It was a domain unquestioningly on the side of the Traitors, self-sustaining due to the presence of the Agri-Worlds inside it, and a mere few weeks of Warp travel from Kiavahr.

We could not risk our homeworld coming under attack because of hit and run warfare. The Traitors had planned this well, forcing most of us with the back against the wall.

That meant we were forced to hold position near Kiavahr with the bulk of our forces, while it fell to isolated Companies to independently prosecute the War of the Raven, striking the Traitors' supply lines.

Yet it would be there, near the Inwit Cluster, that the Raven Guard would score one of its greatest victories.

A victory very few know of, but which prolonged the war by many years…allowing us to hold the line.

* * *

 _How could I have been ever so foolish?_

 _How could I ever end up with the fools I had called friends?_

 _How could I have ever believed in profit as the guiding hand of my existence?_

 _I sincerely do not know._

 _The foolish woman known as Anette Ennis is now nothing but a screaming echo is the back of my mind, a slowly dissolving memory of a dream from which I was forcefully woken up._

 _A lie._

 _Now I know the truth._

 _Now I know who I really am._

 _I am Chi-Alpha 02. But most importantly…._

 _I am Alpharius._

With that solemn declaration, the screaming echo of the human pirate Anette Ennis, last survivor of the _Dhayson's Hope_ , finally dissipated, forever replaced by the new personality implanted in her mind by the Librarians of the Alpha Legion.

As she moved away from the viewport of her secret spy-ship, manned by advanced Machine-Spirits, the new personality swiftly proceeded to transmit by utilizing a secret cipher machine which encrypted any message sent through it through 5 rotors of mechanical nature (Astropathic calls were too easily interceptable by the Thousand Sons, as the Disaster at Cac-Wzon had proven) to the Raven Guard fleet the coordinates of the Kamela system, an isolated star system located below the galactic plane, relatively close to the Inwit Cluster.

There, a mad Tech-Priest had created something that could have ended the Heresy in months…

* * *

-Kamela System, Planet VIII. In the capital of the Soiwe Empire (local Iron Age level civilization)

Imperial date equivalent: 005.M31-

The people of the planet had gathered for an important ceremony at the temple of the Sun God. People from all provinces of the Empire came to Soiwe, the central city of the Empire which had stood for more than a thousand years.

The priests had called a Holy Ceremony, because the Sun God was angry with his people.

The last three seasons had seen the crops wither and die, due to the diminishing light of the Sun God. Summers were becoming colder and colder, and the harsh winters had begun to claim many of the people of the land. Many would go to sleep and be found dead the next day, frozen by the biting cold of the Dead Months.

Thus the priests had called for an ancient ritual which had not been held for many years. A ritual which was held only in the direst of situations, and had not been required for three centuries.

Human sacrifice.

Four warriors, one each representing a season of the year, would offer their hearts to the Sun, in the hope of appeasing him and return his blessing upon the Land. Winter was approaching anew, and the Land desperately needed it to be lighter than usual. The Empire's survival hinged upon it.

The four chosen ones slowly ascended the pyramid atop which the four altars were placed.

The Spring warrior was dressed in orange flowers, each one plucked by hand from the Sacred Trees of Koux by a young slave, later put to death to preserve the secret of the location of the Trees.

The Summer warrior wore a skinned animal, and bore a single Kan-el ear. Normally he would wear many, but the food reserves were running low. One was all they could spare to preserve the symbolism of the ritual, and perhaps the Sun God would be moved by the conditions his people were suffering, when the warrior would reach the Palace of the Gods.

The Autumn warrior was wearing old, withering leaves, and was painted in many colors, red, yellow, blue for the Great As-awej Trees, which had a blue pigmentation during the withering season.

Finally, the Winter warrior, painted in white and bearing the skull of a man, who had died of cold and starvation, chosen at random among countless others to show the gods their people's plight.

The four warriors took place on their chosen altars, ready to offer their lives to the god.

The blades, made out of iron, mined at the dawn of the Soiwe Empire, fell, and the priests chanted the ritual prayers to the Sun God, calling for his light and his power to bless the land once more.

The winter that came was the harshest ever remembered. In the old legends of the people there was no memory of a season like that which would be named as the Fell Winter.

Thousands all around the planet died of starvation and cold. A bright light which eclipsed the moon, followed by a comet was seen in the skies of the Empire, heading towards the north pole of the planet. The elders of the Empire named it a bad omen, which promised death and destruction for the Empire. Many of them were put to death by the Emperor Firirr V, for spreading discontent and fear in the Empire.

They would be proven right six months later, right in the middle of winter.

The barbarian tribes of the northern lands, well known for their fighting prowess and for their innate tendency to wage war amongst each other, attacked the Empire.

They were reviled by the people Empire for their irreligious beliefs, for they had decided that Gods were not worth their devotion, for they had cursed them to live in a harsh land and so could not be counted upon for help. The Empire had led many wars against them, most importantly the Crusade of Emperor Firirr III the Great, two decades before, which had seen the tribes humbled and their megalithic construction dedicated to the ancestors toppled and destroyed. The blow had been grievous, and it was expected that they would never dare attack the Empire again and even recognize their Gods at last. It did not happen.

This time, however, the tribes had done the unthinkable.

They had united in a tribal federation, the _Yushiocor_ , in their language "Alliance", led by a "warrior whose skin was white as ice, and his hair black as coal", or so the merchants who had come from the north described him.

The barbarians left their ancestral lands, which were being irrevocably claimed by the ice packs, and migrated, hoping to find new fertile lands in the south. The Soiwe Empire, weakened by the famine, attempted to resist their migration. They turned to their armies to defend them, but the northerners simply had strength, born out of centuries of atrocities and burning desire for vengeance, and were led by a peerless tactician, who also seemed to immediately recognize the weak points in the Imperial armies and exploit them to maximum effect through squads of chosen warriors, who could fight 5 Imperials simultaneously and win.

The successive spring saw the fall of an empire which had stood for hundreds of Terran years. Soiwe burned. Emperor Firirr V, third son of that Firirr III who had humbled the tribes so many years before, was killed by the barbarians. With him died all remaining members of his family, ending a bloodline which had lasted for generations, dating back to the Sundering (local name for the Age of Strife).

Yet, a question remained unanswered. One the sages of the Empire could not give an answer to.

 _Why the Sun God was ignoring the plight of the people?_

 _Why, he, who was all-powerful, was allowing the suffering to continue?_

 ** _-Aboard the Star-Fort KM-01-_**

Magos Amda Sirin, self-styled Archimandrite of Kamela, was reading the reports from the new Solar Harvesting Arrays.

The new type of panels she had developed allowed a 73% increase in efficiency. Good. But there was still room for improvement.

The Magos looked at the star of the system which had started her path to the True Omnissiah. A G-type star like many others. But now, its light was shackled to her will.

Amda Sirin had started her path as an Adept of the Machine Cult on Mars. She had risen through the ranks of the Mechanicum and had been assigned to a newly-consecrated Exploration Fleet, Fleet Kappa-Mu-0038, assigned to the Quest for Knowledge. With it, she had scoured the eastern parts of the galaxy, even bringing two worlds in Compliance through the Skitarii units assigned to her by the Holy Priesthood of Mars.

Then Kappa-Mu-0038, by way of a Warp-squall, had found …it.

It was an ancient station, built by an unknown xeno race, which had successfully built an empire here, below the galactic plane, long before the Abhuman subspecies known in official records as Homo Habilis ever diverged from the Terran evolutionary line.

These ancient xenos had left records of their power-generation technologies, which allowed to use planetary cores as power sources.

Her mental cogitators were soon awash with designs of new machines powered by this xeno technology.

She purged Kappa-Mu 0038 of any element which she deemed to be too…dogmatic. Thus she became a Heretek.

Styling herself the Archimandrite of Kamela, a random name her cogitators came up with for the system (thus committing another grave act of Hereteky, for she had given herself a title reserved for the highest-ranked members of the Cult, Sirin began to reverse-engineer the schematics left by the unknown xeno race, whom she named "Kamelans". All the while, asking herself why the xenos had left such marvels in what the local xeno archives described as "a backwater, without any strategic role". Perhaps, their capital worlds held many more marvels…technologies she could only dream of…

Amda Sirin successfully reverse-engineered the core harvester technology, and used it on the first two worlds in the system, devoid of all life, which were then thrown into an ice age.

She raided nearby worlds, carrying away hundreds of humans for reconversion into Kataphron Battle Servitors to bolster her army for the inevitable clash with Mars. She took care of leaving no survivors, in order to mislead any Imperial search team in believing it was a Dark Eldar raid. She had enslaved the local humans of the third planet, shaping their civilization so that they would see her as a Goddess.

Then…the Heresy came. A Thousand Sons emissary had found Kamela, and asked for the Heretek's allegiance. Knowing the Martian authorities would execute her in a nanosecond for her blatant techno-heresy, she pledged herself to the Traitors' cause, and promised to build new ships for the fleets of the Traitor Legions.

She then began developing the Solar Harvester. A machine made to harvest the powerful energies of the sun. Kamela's star was a G-type star, of the same type as Sol, which emitted but a fraction of the power of the larger stars, but that was balanced by the far lesser amount of energy required for star containment.

The Solar Harvester came online in months, despite intervention from a lone destroyer of the Raven Guard who had attempted to destroy her.

Her fleet chased away the Loyalist ship, which was blown apart around the eighth planet, a Feral World.

She estimated that there was a 12.221% probability that some Marines could have survived on the planet below. She however believed that those survivors, if any existed, could not pose a threat. All life on that planet would be dead in a matter of years anyway, swept away by her technological marvels.

With the Kamela-Pattern Solar Harvester at full efficiency, the whole system would be dead, sacrificed in the name of the True Omnissiah…

And the fleet she had promised the Thousand Sons would be ready…

* * *

-Date: 007.M31 -

When the Raven Guard fleet exited the Warp, in the Kamela system, close to where one destroyer had gone missing many years before, probably lost to the Warp, Corvus Corax saw why they had been sent here by Malcador. It had been a risk to take away many heavy units from the Kiavahr fleet, including the _Shadow of the Emperor_ …but now he saw it had been worth it.

Scores of warships, partially under construction, of all patterns known to the Imperium…and some completely new. Frigates, Cruisers, Grand Cruisers…and even Battleships, all in various stages of completion, being worked by unmanned drones. A prototype Supercarrier was being constructed inside an asteroid forcibly pulled from the Oort cloud and repositioned in a safe orbit around the star, then hollowed out to serve as a shipyard.

The centerpiece of the massive shipyards built around the star were 3 xeno ships, each one 14-kilometers long, recovered from a dead moon. Their cylindric-shaped sea-green hulls were now displaying dark grey streaks, signifying the local Mechanicum had gotten inside the ships and were working on them, trying to restore them to operational status…

The fleet being constructed around Kamela equaled more than eight Expeditionary Fleets put together. Coupled with the arcane weapons developed here through techno-heresy and forbidden Warp-tech, and the xeno ships rediscovered by the Archimandrite, the Kamelan Fleet, in the hands of the Traitors, could cause untold damage upon the Loyalists, perhaps even tipping the balance of the Inwitian Front in their favor.

So Corvus Corax launched his assault, his objective to destroy the fleet before it could be made operational.

* * *

-KM-01 Star Fort-

Amda Sirin had finished surveying her new Warp-weapon: a Castraferrum Pattern Dreadnought, traded to her by the Thousand Sons in exchange for a new Cruiser, modified by using a Warp Power Core. The power output had been increased tenfold…to the detriment of the Sixth Legion Astartes inside, whose mind had been irreparably damaged by years of experimentation. She would need a new specimen soon….

"Archimandrite! A fleet has entered the system."

"Are they the Sons?" –she asked. _Odd. The deadline for delivery was still weeks away._

"IFF systems register them as…Nineteenth Legion!"

 _Damn. The sons of Corax had found them. How had they found the system? It had been erased from all star-maps by her contacts inside the Administratum…._

Well, no matter. It would mean the new fleet would get an early field test.

"All ships of Kappa-Mu 0038, engage the intruders. Release all combat-ready ships from the yards…"

"Lady. We are counting at least 400 ships. The _Shadow of the Emperor_ is leading them."

That could mean only one thing.

Corvus Corax was here.

She activated her Battle-Cogitator Subroutines, which displayed on one screen the forces of the Nineteenth Legion, on the other one the forces available to her….

RAVEN GUARD FLEET COMPOSITION:

400+ vessels.

1 Gloriana class

23 Battle Barges, many registered as Reserve Types.

142 Cruisers

229 Escorts.

KAPPA MU 0038:

3 Battleships, Retribution class

24 Cruisers

75 Escorts.

KAMELAN FLEET SHIPS POTENTIALLY READY FOR BATTLE:

13 Battleships

44 Cruisers.

30 Escorts.

1 Xeno ship.

The numbers were clearly stacked up against her. Amda Sirin calculated there was only a 3.472% possibility of her winning the battle. This left only one logical recourse.

Evacuation.

"Initiate Protocol 4-1 Omicron-Epsilon."

Her fleet would not engage the Raven Guard, instead trying to activate the ships under construction in order for them to be launched from the yards and sent into the Warp, trying to find a new system and rebuild the Harvester there. It was her only chance.

"Release Xeno Battleship Beta. We will use it to absorb fire, while the rest of the fleet launches."

The work crew aboard Battleship Beta obeyed her orders, despite their calculations predicting their near-certain death.

The enormous xeno ship activated its engines and exited out of the yards. Its shields were up.

Corax saw it presenting itself as a big target for his fleet, one impossible to miss.

The Nineteenth Primarch ordered the fleet's main units to fire, striking the xeno ship in the middle. It did not return fire, instead rerouting power to the shields.

Corax was troubled. If those ships were so powerful and dangerous, why was the Archimandrite risking one of them so carelessly?

Then the _Aeruginosus_ sent a vox-signal. _"Traitor fleet sighted, they are evacuating the system."_

"Pursue them and destroy them. Nex, take the Moritats to that infernal star-absorbing machine and shut it down."

"Acknowledged."

* * *

-Kamela Star Harvester-

Tertiary Worker Nu-Alpha 092 saw the Raven Guard fleet exit the Warp and realized the gravity of the situation.

The Hordes of the Unbelievers had come to destroy them.

She remembered when the Goddess of Logic arrived on Kamela III, or "Umia" -Earth, in her people's native language.

When she arrived, Umia was populated by feral natives, still living in ramshackle villages built inside the mountain ranges of the world, to escape the dangerous Priz'Umt, or "Earth-Stalkers", beasts who fed upon humans and hunted them down.

Until the Day of Revelation, when the Metal Army landed and freed her world from these dangerous predators.

Her people swore eternal oaths of servitude to the Goddess, who initiated them into the dictates of the True Omnissiah, the God of All.

Umia was turned into a marvel of engineering, with metal spire-cities rising above the clouds, powered by the Holy Machine's energies.

Now these …Ravens….had come to destroy it all.

Unacceptable. Illogical.

She picked up a Holy Rifle and rushed to the closest contested area-a Solar Panel Array.

She fired her Rifle at a Legionary, which however dodged the blow, then….disappeared.

Nu-Alpha 092 activated her goddess-gifted Infrared Visors, certain that these monsters could not hide their heat signatures.

She locked upon a Legionary and fired, the Transuranic beam taking his head off. She then moved to strike at another, hitting him in the leg, immobilizing and allowing him to be taken down by another Holy Warrior of Metal…

Then she felt her power supply dwindle down, as five Lightning Claws erupted from her chest, severing her Promethium supply line.

As her photoreceptors flashed with SHUT DOWN messages, she could hear only some words from her killer.

"….Nex. Taking shields down in 5…"

* * *

The Moritats successfully shut down the Shields protecting the Harvester from the baleful energies of the sun, which soon began to expand, destroying the vile machine, leaving no trace it had ever existed

As the Nineteenth Legion forces evacuated the area, the sun returned to its proper luminosity, restoring climate patterns across the system.

The Archimandrite's fleet suffered heavy losses, but managed to escape, losing the Xeno ship used as decoy, two Battleships, and scores of lesser ships.

Kamela III, the World of Metal, became the Raven Guard's next target. Upon seeing what the Archimandrite had done to the world, reshaping its culture for her own amusement, Corax ordered an Exterminatus action to be performed. The world was too corrupt to be saved.

Executed by a Cyclonic Torpedo, the attack turned Kamela III into a Dead World, exposed to the vacuum of space. No life would grow again on its soil in the next ten thousand years.

On Kamela VIII, the return of the sun was met with joyous celebrations. The tribal elders and the seers interpreted it as a clear sign: the Soiwe Empire was irredeemably corrupt, and only its fall could satisfy the Sun God, who had sent the northern barbarians as the rightful punishment for the Empire's decadence. Now that corruption had been washed away.

The barbarians of the north installed themselves as new rulers, with their leader inaugurating a tribal federation which would last thousands of Terran years, ruled by him and his descendants.

Corax returned triumphantly to Kiavahr, his fleet damaged but still active, carrying a prize: their newly captured Supercarrier, which Captain Agapito Nev had wrested from the Archimandrite's fleet after launch from the Asteroid-Shipyard. The ship was given to the Kiavahr Guilds for tech-exorcism.

After making sure there were no forbidden or Warp-tainted devices aboard, the ship was recommissioned by the Raven Guard as the _Raven's Nest._

Celebrations were brief, though, as reports from Segmentum Solar came in.

A large White Scars fleet had breached the line, heading straight for the Kalium System.

That could mean only one thing.

They wanted to take the Kalium Gate.

If they ever took it…. the road to Terra could be wide open for Magnus' armies.

* * *

Longest chapter now! Please review!

I want to thank ShinAyasaki for the review of Chapter 13. I knew there would be some problems with it, being my first open battle chapter. It will be rewritten as soon as possible.

In the meantime, the Heresy proceeds!


	16. Chapter 16: The First Daemon Primarch

CHAPTER 16: The Kalium Gate.

 _"_ _The winds of Heaven beyond it will take us straight to Terra."_ -Qin Xa, master of the Shodan, the White Scars' First Company

The _Lance of Heaven_ exited the Warp in the Kalium system, heading at once towards the inner system, where its prize was located.

The ancient Battleship of the Mars-Dictatus pattern, built at the beginning of the Great Crusade for the Fifth Legion, now was leading a fleet of 12 Battle Barges towards the Gate. Aboard were several thousand Legionaries of the Fifth Legion, the first one to see the lies of the Emperor for what they truly were and to swear itself to the cause of the Primordial Force, which sustained the entire universe.

Qin Xa, master of the Shodan, meditated on the ancient texts of Wira-Shodan, the Prophet of Chogoris, the first one on Chogoris who was exposed to the Force, and attempted to reveal it to the people of the world, only to be hunted down and slain by the Ga-Shi, in Middle Chogorian, " those who found solace in ignorance", a derogatory term which now the Fifth Legion had bestowed on all humans who refused to see the Primordial Force as true.

At first they had given it to those who refused to follow the Emperor which in their deluded state they had considered the Avatar of the Primordial Force. The atrocities committed in the name of the False Emperor would weigh upon the Fifth Legion's souls forever.

Only when the Khan was faced by the emissaries of the Gods on Chogoris, right in his palace, the veil of lies the Emperor had thrown upon the sons of Chogoris was removed, and the Truth was revealed once more.

Qin Xa had been there, when the Revelation had happened…

 _The vortex had opened right in the middle of the throne room, as Jaghatai Khan or Uji-Mi-Dzu in the language of his tribe, the Ashi-Shoda, was feasting and celebrating with his legionaries after the successful compliance of three more Sectors, and the destruction of the Ork Empire of Vurbok Arm-Choppa, whose ramshackle Chainsword now adorned the palace of the Khan, considered one of the safest places in the galaxy. No one had ever gotten in…until now._

 _From the vortex a being came out. It was as tall as a Baneblade Super-Heavy Tank, with black wings sprouting from his back._

 _It looked at the Khan with burning hatred…and then pity._

 ** _"_** ** _Uji-Mi-Dzu. Why do you attack the Force that gave you life?"_**

 _"_ _What are you?"_

 ** _"_** ** _I am an emissary of the Primordial Force, sent here to teach you once more the faith you are assaulting and destroying in the name of the greatest of lies. In normal circumstances, mortals are naturally driven to find Chaos…but the Anathema threatens the Force's very existence. So I was sent here…for you. Come with me, Uji-Mi-Dzu. Come…and see the truth discovered by your ancestors."_**

 _The Khan, attracted, had moved towards the creature and entered the vortex, followed by his Keshig._

 _When he returned, he had visibly aged, for he had lived through millennia of conquest and war in the Immaterium…yet only a few minutes had passed on Chogoris, and in realspace. His eyes were also lit by tears, for he had seen, thanks to the Emissary, how many cultures he had broken in the name of a tyrant who sought to destroy the Primordial Force, obfuscate the truth and condemn Mankind to an eternity of servitude and ignorance._

 _The Khan, however, had a new light in his eyes. A determination which fueled him. The Entities of the Beyond had given him an order._

 _Destroy the Imperium of Man, founded upon a lie, and reveal the truth to the galaxy…no matter the cost._

Qin Xa had followed the Primarch in his journeys in the Beyond, and like him, he had sworn himself to the cause of the Imperium's destruction. There was no choice. Mankind had to see the Truth, and accept its fate.

For ignorance and denial would sentence Mankind to the fate of the Eldar, another race who could have been the immortal avatars of the Force, yet turned back at the last minute, and rejected the Goddess they had created, birthed by their own emotions.

They had been found wanting and broken in the Fall. Now the survivors and the descendants of those who rejected their place in the universe wandered the galaxy like scavengers among countless others, soon to be destroyed by Mankind's New Kingdom.

Through his eidetic memory, Qin Xa recorded 31 Exodite Worlds cleansed and three Craftworlds destroyed: Idharae, by the Imperial Fists, Thuyelsa, destroyed by the Wolves and Stel-Uit, destroyed by the Fifth Legion after its illumination, to seal the Pact of Pleasure with Slaanesh.

Another, Mor-rioh-I, had escaped only because Horus fell into a decoy, allowing the Eldar world-ship to escape. In the absence of their once-mighty army, the Eldar had become masters of deceit

Such actions were only delaying the inevitable. The Eldar will fall, inevitably. Their ancestors' folly had irrevocably doomed them.

Mankind would not endure the same fate, cast aside by the Primordial Force in favor of another race, one more inclined to listen and execute its will. The Fifth Legion would make sure of it.

 _He_ would make sure of it.

-Kalium Gate-

First Captain Julius Kaesoron looked at the Auspexes of the Imperial defenses installed in what remained of the Kalium Gate, a wonder of the First Human Empire.

Once, it allowed travel through the Warp at speeds the modern Warp-Enginseers could only dream of.

Now, however, it was a ruin, good only as a makeshift (that is, for the standards of the Third Legion) fortress.

Thousands of Lances and macrocannons were installed around the central ring, and countless other pieces of ordnance had been placed at the outer ring. No ship, not even a Space Hulk, could get close and remain in one piece.

As he surveyed the attack vector of the White Scars fleet, he realized the Scars wanted to get to the Gate. Perhaps they believed they had the means to reactivate it and use it.

Julius Kaesoron did not believe such a feat could be achieved…but in the Heresy, the possibility of this could not be discounted. All over the galaxy, the Fifth Legion had been assisted in their assaults by monstrous creatures, which defied any attempt at comprehension.

He had seen one of them, on the Western Front, fighting against the Word Bearers and one Brotherhood of the White Scars.

The creature, which called itself a Keeper of Secrets, had flooded his mind with images….

 _The Iron Hands of Clan Raukaan were landing in force upon a planet, a hive world where decadence and pleasure reigned supreme._

 _As an unseen visitor, he had witnessed crab-armed women-mutants throw themselves at Terminators and win, laughing in victory and even more in defeat, as they savoured their deaths as a new experience._

 _The Emperor's Children saw Astartes of his own Legion fight beside the creatures, chanting impure hymnals of depravity._

 _And finally, he saw the creature leading the assault, a Prince of the Damned, an Astartes whose mortality had been flayed away, replaced by pure Warp-matter, his face radiating insane pleasure._

 _Worst of all, however, was hearing the…thing….reveal its name._

 _A name which threw him into what the Apothecaries called "Epileptic Seizure" and which made him closer than ever to receiving the Emperor's Peace._

 _The name…was Julius Kaesoron._

 _His own._

It took a memory removal procedure to restore the First Captain's sanity, and even then, some echoes of what he had seen remained in his mind, unable to be removed.

He had asked for reassignment from the main fronts to guard duty, and Fulgrim granted him that. He needed some time away from the war, to recuperate.

He and 4000 Battle-Brothers of the Third Legion had been assigned to take up guard duty at the Kalium Gate, replacing the 23rd Great Company of the Salamanders, which took their place on the front.

He had hoped that the scars etched in his mind would heal with time…but war had come to him.

Now the Fifth Legion wanted to take the Gate.

They would have to do so over his dead body…

* * *

ORDER OF BATTLE OF THE BATTLE OF THE KALIUM GATE

Loyalists: 8 Battle Barges, dozens of Cruisers and Escorts. Entirety of Kalium Defense Fleet.

4000 Astartes of the Third Legion, 1st Company.

Traitors: 12 Battle Barges, dozens of Cruisers and Escorts.

5400 Astartes of the Fifth Legion's Horde of the Kau Plain

500 Shoden (1st Company equivalent among the Fifth Legion, Terminator armour available)

Thousands of Khorchin cultists as support troops.

* * *

The fleets began to fire at extreme ranges, through Lances and Macrocannons. At such ranges, however, successfully striking an enemy ship was-and still is- extremely difficult. Coupled with the extreme speed of the Fifth Legion ships, and the exceptionally trained crews of the Third Legion, such a feat was near impossible.

First strike went to the Loyalists, as a Lance beam struck a Battleship, weakening its Void Shields by 4%. Nothing relevant...but still important.

The Traitors responded by charging towards the enemy battle-line at full speed, but in so doing, they came within range of the Kalium Gate Defense Grid.

The Grid began firing, its aim wildly off at first, having difficulty adjusting itself to the Fifth Legion's tactics, but soon it began taking its toll, gradually reducing the Void Shields of the Traitor ships.

First blood went to the Traitors, as a Loyalist Picket Frigate exploded, torn apart by a Torpedo barrage from a White Scars battleship.

The Loyalists soon evened the odds, as a Traitor Light Cruiser was snapped in half by a Defense Laser shot.

But the White Scars had a critical speed advantage, and soon reached Boarding Torpedo firing range.

Hundreds of Boarding teams and Dreadclaw Assault Pods left the Fifth Legion fleet, racing towards the Gate and the Loyalist ships, attempting to kill them from within and take them over.

The Defensive Grid concentrated fire against the main Traitor ships, the swarm being composed of objects too small to be effectively tracked. The task of impeding the boarding action fell to the Point Defense Guns.

Many were shot down.

But many others reached their mark….

* * *

-Aboard the Grand Cruiser _Phobetor,_ assigned to the Kalium Gate Defense Fleet.-

Chief Armsman Orpheus Kominski stood ready near Weapons Deck 2, ensuring none of those who worked on the gun decks ever thought of rebelling.

During the Great Crusade, he had served on the frontlines, until a campaign against the Orks saw his right leg hacked away by a giant Ork Nob.

He had gotten an augmetic replacement, but had been reassigned to Armsman Duty aboard this century-old ship, the Avenger-Phobos class Grand Cruiser _Phobetor._

When he had received the news, he had wanted to hack the Administratum representative to pieces...but he did not have the time to do that.

Two months later, the War had begun. In the first days, he had to execute 43 Traitor sympathizers, 3 of which among his security teams.

When the _Phobetor_ had been assigned to evacuation duty of the 32nd Ageran Lions Regiments, he had wanted to get into action, to feel the sound of guns again.

Those wishes were crushed and burned away to dust when he saw what was left of the Agerans, who had been engaged against the Ultramarines' 10th Chapter on a backwater world near Ultramar.

Scores of traumatized people, begging for death, after seeing the depravities committed by the mortal soldiers accompanying the Thirteenth Legion and the Legionaries themselves upon those they captured alive…and often, even upon the dead. In that moment, he came to thank that Ork for taking away his leg.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill alarm.

 **"** **All hands, we are being boarded. Armsmen, converge on Deck 33! Boarding parties incoming**."

He grabbed his Phobos Mk III Assault Rifle and headed to the mentioned deck…only to stumble and fall on something while still in Deck 34.

"Damn. Activate emergency lighting!"

He soon wished he hadn't…for he saw he had fallen in a pool of blood as big as himself…and the five crewmen bodies from which the blood was still pouring out.

He then saw who had killed them, as a group of crazed Cultists rushed towards him, holding ramshackle swords and armor, indicating their Feral World origins.

"BLOOD! SKULLS! BLOOD!"

He grabbed his rifle and unloaded the whole clip, tearing the Cultists to pieces, their primitive armor being no protection against bullets.

One of them survived and charged, trying to sever his leg with an axe.

"No. Not again." The Chief Armsman fired a grenade, which disintegrated the mad warrior.

He then heard the voice intercom blare again.

"Boarders on Decks 6,7,8 and 33. Decks 21, 22, 26,29,30 have fallen. All Loyalists, converge on the bridge-AAHHH!"

This was bad. Real bad.

Orpheus Kominski headed to the engine room, the Bridge obviously being a lost cause. If the Traitors ever took the engine room, the ship was as good as lost.

When he reached the engine room, he found his fellow armsmen in combat with the Traitors, who were led by…something….which reminded him of an Astartes, yet wasn't.

He could still distinguish parts of a Mark V armor, but the head of the _thing was insectoid-shaped…_

Then he could see no more, as another thing, similar to the one he was seeing, tore off his head….and his soul headed into the Immaterium to feed the Neverborn.

-Kalium Gate Center HQ-

Julius Kaesoron saw the _Phobetor_ veer away from his line, and target her own escort screen. Two Frigates exploded, attacked from the direction they least expected.

"The _Phobetor_ is lost. Defense Grid, the _Phobetor_ is enemy target. Destroy her!"

The Defense Grid could not miss her. Ten Macrobattery Slugs hit her at point-blank range in quick succession, detonating her magazines and causing a massive explosion.

"Sir! Defense Grid Cannon 11 is down. The enemies are inside!"

"Vent all atmosphere in Cannon 11's asteroid!"

"But Sir, there are many people of ours still inside!"

"And I fear they will thank us for what I am telling you to do. Vent it."

As air flowed out, Auspexes picked up at least 20 small power signatures, indicating Power Armoured enemies. Hundreds of mortals were sucked out too, their lungs exploding due to void exposure.

* * *

The Emperor's Children fought back, and exacted a heavy toll upon the Traitors.

Their boarding operations were however faced by not just mortals and Astartes...but by creatures far more powerful...

* * *

-Aboard the _She-kyo_ (in Chogorian: Divine River of the Plains)

Mukhari Khan, shipmaster of the _She-Kyo_ , a Battleship which he had wrested from a group of Word Bearers loyalists, was worried. His crew was trying to repel the Emperor's Children from the weapons decks, but they were failing. The Third Legion Astartes had successfully taken the lower decks, and were pushing on towards the bridge. The engine room was still bitterly contested between the two sides.

"Keep firing, faithfuls. Or I will take your heads off, and yield them to the Entities Beyond!"

The bridge crew-all converted, willingly or unwillingly, by the on-board Stormseer-complied, doubling the volume of fire put out by the Battleship's Lances.

Suddenly the Void Shields went down, and a Boarding Torpedo crashed through the bridge armor, allowing its onboard Assault Squad of the Third Legion entry.

Mukhari Khan unsheathed his blade and charged, the Third Legion responding in kind with his chainsword.

The bridge crew charged as well, wielding ramshackle swords forged from salvaged ship-metal.

The duel was hard and intense, but in the end Mukhari Khan was disabled, his sword arm severed by a precise chainsword swipe.

As he lay wounded on the armoured floor, a bridge crewmember died, and a foul vapour exited him…rushing towards the prone, wounded form of the Khan.

A voice inundated the Khan's mind….

 **"** **Thank you…. you will make a fine vessel…."**

Before the Loyalists' wide eyes, the vapour flowed completely into the Khan, who then began…to moult.

His armor shattered, revealing the skin beneath as changing from pink to blood-red. His arms twisted into claws, with fingers the size of an Astartes fist.

Pieces of skin and other tissues sloughed off, replaced by Warp matter.

The creature then grabbed a sword from a dead cultist's corpse, twisting it into a mighty axe.

It then spoke.

 **"** **I am Tuke'os the Slasher. I am your death."**

The odds had suddenly reversed, as the Third Legion squad was faced by the mighty form of a Daemon Prince of Khorne, which was possessing the body of a Khan of the Fifth Legion.

Most of them died swiftly, torn apart by the daemonic creature. Those who survived more than a few seconds were contaminated by the Warp-Matter seeping into the ship, becoming possessed by the Lesser Daemons of Khorne known as Heralds.

The Daemon Prince then led a horde of Bloodletters into the ship, slaughtering any Loyalist aboard in the thirst for blood.

After twenty minutes, only the engine room remained in Loyalist hands.

-Engine rooms of the _She-Kyo_ -

Captain Leonallious Polurikos, son of Chemos, stood ready to meet the abomination his brothers said the Fifth Legion had unleashed upon the ship…but nothing could prepare him to what he would see.

The doors of the engine room were blasted apart…revealing the blood and muscle monstrosity that had slaughtered its way throughout the ship….and to Polurikos' horror, the creatures accompanying him, which wore the armor of the Emperor's Children.

Polurikos' company charged into the melee.

The Captain avoided the Daemon Prince, knowing he was no match for the massive creature, focusing instead on the lesser ones.

He beheaded one of his possessed brothers and blasted apart another with his Bolter.

The Daemon Prince then charged him.

 **"** **Arrogant fool! Your skull shall adorn the bone mountains of my realm!"**

He tried to avoid him, but the Daemon Prince was too fast. Polurikos was impaled by the Daemon Prince's sword, which then bellowed out his victory to the Bloodletters below.

 **"** **BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!**

* * *

-Aboard the _Lance of Heaven_ -

Qin Xa knew the Raid was not going as planned. They had inflicted grave casualties upon the local fleet, that was true. But only one Defense Cannon was offline.

His fleet was suffering heavy losses. A Battleship had been lost, another flung into the Warp by a Daemon Prince, and another was listing to the side, on fire…

He then saw the wreck of the _Qo-Kadi_ explode. Correction: two Battleships lost.

He then felt a strong psychic call from his Father. One he could not ignore.

 _"_ _Qin Xa, my son. The time has come. Come home."_

He ordered his fleet to disengage at once, calling an end to the Raid on the Kalium Gate.

Julius Kaesoron breathed heavily. He had repelled the Scars…. for now. The Kalium Defense Fleet was heavily damaged, with two Battleships and 3 Grand Cruisers destroyed, along with scores of lesser ships. But he had prevailed.

But how long before _the next raid?_

 _And the one after?_

 _He would never know. Because such is the way of the Fifth Legion._

 _Attack, then withdraw and return...over and over again, until the enemy is no more._

-Chogoris -

Jaghatai Khan stood upon the dark plains of Chogoris, meditating upon the ash-riven plains, ready to receive the blessing of the Force….and reflecting upon the irony of it all.

At first, he had been angry at his brothers for ignoring him, and likening him to that barbarian that was Leman Russ. But now, he could see that this had allowed him to remain free from the corruptive influence of the False Emperor, and viable for illumination.

He had been illuminated already on Chogoris, but the secrets of the ancient Wira-Shoda were only fragments of the true power of Chaos.

The Emissary of the Primordial Force had revealed to him the full truth, secrets that had remained hidden for thousands of years had been laid bare before him.

Thus he had chosen to swear his soul to the Primordial Force, which sustained the entire universe. The Entities Beyond had given him, their newest servant, the sacred duty of destroying the Imperium.

He and his Legion knew that they, the barbarian outcasts, would have had no leverage upon the Imperium at large: the Emperor would simply unleash Russ and that would have been the end of it.

So he had initiated a massive campaign of deceit, offering his Legion as the vanguard of the Great Crusade in the unexplored regions of the galaxy. The Emperor had acquiesced, not knowing the true aim of the campaign.

He had destroyed entire xeno empires and had hunted down the Eldar of Stel-Uit in a campaign known as the First Great Hunt, where many of his sons had died.

All a means to an end.

In the vast unexplored regions of the galaxy, he had found many human civilizations, which he converted to the worship of the Force. At the same time, he had initiated a massive recruitment program for his Legion, which had grown into the 200.000 units range. Under its cover, he had dispatched agents to countless Imperial worlds, seeding cults based around the worship of the Entities Beyond, and introducing Khorchin, the language of Chogoris, as their own Sacred Language.

Many of those cults had however fallen, misunderstanding the Stormseers' teachings and ultimately turning to the worship of the Part over the Whole.

Only a few of them had held true to his words...and had seen the Truth. The "Chaos Gods" were nothing more than reflections of the One Primordial Force, which was the only thing worthy of devotion. Limiting one's worship to just one part of it was …. quicker, easier. But it denied the follower a true understanding of Chaos.

At the same time, he had begun to search among his brothers for the most prospective candidates for the rebellion.

He knew that he could not be the one leading the rebellion. The War needed someone who could inspire, who could lead...and could be feared just as much as the Emperor was.

He had thought about many candidates...until Nikaea.

As he saw Magnus the Red judged and condemned by the Emperor, and the Librarians who had proposed the Compromise humbled and forced to their knees by the psychic power of the Emperor, it all clicked into place.

Magnus the Red was the only one with enough psychic power to meet the Emperor on near-equal terms in a fight, and had the charisma and the power to sway entire worlds...willingly or unwillingly. With his power boosted by Chaos, _he could best the Emperor._

Thus he and his trusted son, Targutai Yesugei, had set the Cyclopean Heresy into motion, by luring Magnus the Red into the Immaterium, where he could meet the Gods...and accept the truth. From that, the future simply followed.

Jaghatai Khan now stood upon the plains, in the center of the circle created by eight ziqqurats of stone and flesh, built by the devotees of the city of Phenran, one of those which had held true to the doctrine of the Khan of Chogoris.

Inside them, thousands of Cultists chosen by fate as well as thousands of prisoners from the Loyalist Army, as well as 66 Eldar Corsairs, were immobilized to altars of stone. Inside a smaller temple to the south, there were reserves of geneseed, harvested from the Primarch himself prior to the ritual.

Jaghatai Khan nodded. The fires upon the ziqqurats lit simultaneously, ignited by no human hands. Inside the temples, the Cultists slit the throats of all captives and Eldars simultaneously. The numerological patterns, chosen to call the attention of the Force, proved critical in the breaking down of the Veil.

This time, however, from the veil, came out no daemons. There would be something coming _in._

A massive Warp vortex engulfed Chogoris, pulling the world inside the Immaterium. In a flash of unlight, Chogoris disappeared from realspace, altering the gravitational patterns of the entire Mundus Planus system.

When the world reemerged, its location had changed. Now, it was located deep into the galactic anomaly that the Imperium called the Maelstrom, forced around a Warp-mutated star.

Upon it, tens of thousands of Cultists and Fifth Legion Astartes. And a being that once was called a Primarch, but now was no more.

The Warp had reshaped his flesh…until it had reached breaking point, and destroyed it instead, flaying the humanity from the Khan and remaking him into the First Daemon Primarch.

The Khagan, Herald of the Primordial Force, opened its eyes, roaring its existence to the sky….and fulfilling the ancient vision of Ketugu Suogo.

The Sea of Souls was shaken by the Ascension, and ripples had ensued. All around the galaxy, those ripples found viable human minds, and caused massive insanity and Chaos Cults devoted to the newborn entity to be born.

The Khagan then spoke its first words…

 **"** **MY SONS, I HAVE ASCENDED! NOW WE MUST RETURN TO THE WAR AT ONCE!**

 **WE HAVE AN EMPEROR...A LIAR... TO CAST DOWN!"**

The Fifth Legion Astartes and Cultists roared their devotion to the Khagan and the insane Force that is Chaos.

* * *

SECRET FILE OF THE INQUISITION NUMBER: 5555.

 _"_ _The descendants of he who built the greatest empire on Terra shall return, led by a reincarnation of the Great Conqueror. And like his predecessor, he shall yield his soul to the Gods, but he shall not be claimed by one, but by all Four …."_

-Ancient prophecy, recovered in the ruins of the Terran city of Koblenz, destroyed in thermonuclear warfare during the Age of Strife. Tentatively dated to 349.M2.

 _This is a secret report of the tale of Jaghatai Khan up until his rediscovery by the Imperium, compiled through the physical and spiritual sacrifice of several Alpha Legion Operatives and of several Acolytes of the Inquisition._

 _We share it with the Inquisition's Ordo Barbarus (authorized by Harrowmaster -REDACTED- ) so that it may be known how the culture of the pre-industrial world of Chogoris influenced the Khan's path, from warrior-leader of a Legion to slave of the Powers. May it be used to prevent other events like this in the future._

 _WARNING: This text shows words taken from a Chaotic cult's "holy texts." Consult it with due caution._

 _For the Emperor_.

The Fifth Primarch's pod exited the Warp in the Mundus Planus system. A single star system with a K5-type Star. An unremarkable one in every respect, except for a single inhabited planet. A world of plains and deserts, all packed in a single supercontinent. It had a millions-strong population, reduced by the tumultuous Age of Strife to an Iron Age-Feudal World level. Its name was Mundus Planus.

The pod hurtled towards it, heading towards the vast desertic steppes on its single supercontinent.

Just before atmospheric entry, it collided with a 1-meter wide asteroid. The pod was heavily shaken, but the adamantium hull held.

Many, after the Heresy, dearly wished it did not do so. A horrible death by decompression would have averted many tragedies and atrocities in the future.

But the kinetic impact with the asteroid had a critical effect on the pod. It deviated the path of the pod from a course leading to the Empty Quarter to a new one, heading straight to the Western Ocean.

Following this new course, the pod crashed in the Qarshi Archipelago, a volcanic island chain located in Chogoris' ocean. There it would be found by the local inhabitants, who rescued him and adopted him as one of their own sons.

This was the Khan's first step on the Path of Damnation. A Path whose first seeds had been sown _millennia before._

For the Qarshi Archipelago was home to the descendants of an exiled Empty Quarter tribe, the Ashi-Shoda. But its origins were far darker….

Millennia before, a prophet had arisen among the people of the Kherlen Kingdom (a predecessor of the Palatine's Empire, near the eastern border of the Empty Quarter). Seemingly appearing from nowhere, he preached a new religion, based upon worship of the Great Ocean, a dimension which was hidden beyond the Veil of Reality, and only judged people based on their merits and achievements, and it ignored blood nobility and class belonging. (Note to the Inquisition: This is clearly the Warp, hidden behind a benevolent guise).

In a world where feudal privileges and ancestry held sway over nearly all aspects of life, these teachings could turn many ears, especially among the lowest class of society: the slaves. Descendants of prisoners of war or debtors who could not pay up debts to a nobleman, they were treated as property by the nobles. They could be traded, sold, even killed by any freeman (they had to refund the noble for the damage to personal property). A religion where they were valued and judged _exactly like the others_ held an irrestistible appeal for many.

Soon that Prophet's teachings expanded from social mobility, venturing into more…esoteric matters. He taught the Great Ocean was a great way to accomplish things, contrary to what the traditional Shamans of Chogoris, the ancestors of the Stormseers, claimed. He denounced them as slaves to the nobles and fools.

 _"The fool, the coward, and the ignorant proclaim that the warp is a realm of unknowable peril and indescribable terror, that it is the hell of countless ancient myths and legends. This is a lie, told by those whose authority is based on lies, to keep the masses terrified of the unknown. The warp is limitless in power and its secrets are infinite; it is knowledge and strength, life and death, and the untapped potential to make and remake worlds. It takes only the discipline and the will to shape it; those who lack that clarity of purpose are liable to be shaped by it instead." –Second Epistle of the Prophet to the People of Kherlen, by the Demon of Chogoris._

The new religion soon gathered pace in Kherlen, and began spreading among other Kingdoms as well, attracting the attention of the noble class. At first they did not care, then some of their number began to join the new faith, casting away their titles. This to them was utterly inconceivable: _why a man who could have everything and rules above thousands of inferiors decides to renounce it all and join a religion where he is an equal to those he had once reigned over?_

Such a question is still asked by many Ordo Hereticus and Malleus Inquisitors who had to face the madness of the Khorchin Cults and the Chaos Cults in general.

The rulers of the Ten Kingdoms convened for a summit in the city of Cophasta, capital of the Chu State (the direct predecessor of the Palatine's Empire.) They agreed that the new faith (which by that time was beginning to structure itself organically, giving itself an internal hierarchy and calling itself the Wira-Shoda _(in a long-extinct dialect of Middle Chogorian, "Those who seek to shape the Great Ocean, and not to be shaped by it".)_ by the name they gave to their Prophet, Wira-Shoden.

They raised a great army and attacked the Wira-Shoden installations and houses of worship, destroying them and killing many followers. But casualties were far higher than expected: Wira-Shoden performed many miracles: soldiers were flayed alive and turned to mere dust. Others were mutated into insane monstrosities and turned against their brothers, forcing the soldiers to kill them as well. Others simply cast off

But the Wira-Shoda were hurt. Badly. So their Prophet led them in a great migration, away from the civilized lands and into the Empty Quarter, where the Ten Kingdoms' armies could not or would not follow them.

 _"_ _If the path to salvation leads through the halls of purgatory, then so be it."_ –Wira-Shoden, from the Tale of the Great Migration. (text classified by order of the Ordo Malleus and the Ordo Barbarus. Only Inquisitor Lords are authorized to consult.)

During the Migration, the exiles, numbering in the tens of thousands, came across the nomadic tribes of the Empty Quarter. There, they tried to preach their faith among them. But among the tribes, the Shamans held a far greater sway than in the Ten Kingdoms. Thus their faith was scorned and rejected, and the exiles forced to migrate further west.

Until they reached the territory of the Ashikuyo-Togus tribe. One of the most powerful tribes of that time, who had however been humbled by the rising power of the Talskar Tribe in a border war a few years before. Their standing among the other tribes was declining.

The Ashikuyo-Togus embraced the new faith brought by the foreigners with a passion, feeling the fires within their souls reignited by the words of the prophet, and Wira-Shoden became the tribe's leader after a healing miracle convinced the then-ruling Khan to stand down and become an ordinary worshipper. The local Shamans were exiled and cast away.

But the Shamans were far quicker to recognize the threat posed by the Ashikuyo-Togus than the people of the Ten Kingdoms were. They reached the lands of the Talskar, where their warnings were heard and attentively listened to.

Convening a Kurultai, a summoning of all the tribes of the Empty Quarter, the Shamans declared the Ashikuyo-Togus tribe "apostates towards the faith of the Ancestors, which the Spirits guided to Chogoris" (probably referring to the Long March colonizers which settled Chogoris during the Dark Age of Technology)

Thus began the Boshogtu or in Ancient Chogorian "The war against those who deserted the faith of the Ancestors" (note the Edict of Obliteration _ante litteram_ enforced upon the renegade tribe)

The Ashikuyo-Togus were strong, and bolstered by their faith, they proved to be mighty warriors. But even that was not enough when faced by the combined might of all other tribes put together.

In the end, the Ashikuyo-Togus were defeated, and Wira-Shoden critically wounded by a poisoned sword. With their leader fallen, the Wira-Shoda dispersed, and were executed by the Tribes.

The Tribes declared the Ashikuyo-Togus "banished and to be lost to the mists of history" and were assumed to be destroyed, erased from existence. It was not so.

To the woe of the entire galaxy, some of them had survived.

For before he died, Wira-Shoda managed to lead the survivors of his faithful armies to the shores of the Great Ocean, where they built improvised ships and reached the Qarshi Archipelago, which had not been discovered by the tribes nor by anyone else. They were what the Administratum calls _Terra Incognita._

There, the Ashi-Shoda (the new name the combined followers gave themselves ) built a new civilization and swore great oaths of vengeance against the Empty Quarter and the Ten Kingdoms, who, in ignorance, had chosen to destroy those who had seen the True Path.

For millennia, the new tribe prepared for the Reclamation of Chogoris. They trained for war and mastered the arts of naval warfare, along with light cavalry which they knew was vital against the type of foe they expected to meet. They mastered industry, and coal propulsion, which the Shamans had banned "to preserve the beauty of Sacred Chogoris".

They built steam-powered battleships, and troop transports. They also mastered gunpowder, and equipped their cavalry troops with short rifles which could be fired on the move, and with swords "to meet the foe in honorable combat as the Spirits of War desired."

All they needed was a sign of the Great Ocean. And they received it when a metallic object crashed upon the largest island of the Qarshi Archipelago, Wira-Shoden (named in remembrance of the Prophet).

The pod was evidently damaged by some kind of stellar impact, and when a baby was found within it, clearly undamaged by the impact, he was seen as the sign of the Great Ocean. Here was their leader, the one who would lead them to reclaim that which was once theirs.

These beliefs would be proven correct.

As Uji-Mi-Dzu (the name they gave the foundling) grew, he would surpass all teachers in the span of a few years, and master the arts of warfare. At the same time, he learned the Sacred Book of Wira-Shoda by memory. He learned of the Boshogtu and how the people of the Continent had attacked and driven them out to preserve their power, which was based upon ignorance and fear.

Thus he swore to bring back the Ashi-Shoda to their ancestral lands, and scour away ignorance from the lands of Chogoris.

Thus began the War of Reclamation.

When the Ashi-Shoda landed upon the coast of the Continent and returned to their ancestral lands, now occupied by marauders and brigands, they expected to face a foe at least as technologically advanced as them. They were wrong.

They faced foes armed exactly like those who cast out their forefathers millennia before. The Chogorian tribes had not progressed at all during the thousand years-long exile of the followers of Wira-Shoden.

This reinforced the faith of the invaders: they now had the tangible proof that without the favor of the Great Ocean, humanity was condemned to eternal stagnation and decay.

When they came to the territory of the Talskar, their charge was like a hurricane, fueled by faith and thousand-year hatred and desire for revenge.

Ong Khan, leader of the tribe, attempted to stop them but was defeated through superior technology and the sheer faith of the invaders. The Talskar were conquered, and their Stormseers either killed or corrupted by the foul sorceries of the invaders, and turned towards their foul faith.

Thus the tribes of the Empty Quarter came together again in a Kurultai to select their best leader to lead them.

But Uji-Mi-Dzu had his warriors use special catapults to unleash a deadly contagion upon them. They died in droves, their Shamans unable to counter this pathogen.

(ref. Magos Biologis .: Hostile organism classified _as Yersinia Chogoriae_ , due to symptoms resembling the ancient Terran disease known as "The Plague" and internal structure similarity to the ancient _Yersinia Pestis_ of Terra, declared wiped out 334.M3. Many outbreaks reported during the Heresy, the Great Purification and the Age of the Imperium. Last known outbreak: Leoter IX, 423.M40.)

Many, now convinced that their Stormseers' teachings were false, joined the Ashi-Shoda. Even some Stormseers cast off their role and joined the enemy army, naming the enemy leader their Khan. Jaghatai Khan, in the Chogorian dialect of the Empty Quarter. Among these was Targutai Yesugei, known to the Inquisition as the Priest of Damnation, the Corruptor of the Arch-Traitor and countless other titles.

The survivors of the Empty Quarter migrated east, to their ancient foe: the Ten Kingdoms, which had been unified under a single ruler, known as the Palatine. There, they brought word of the ancient enemy coming from the sea.

Ketugu Suogo, the Palatine, was worried. This ancient enemy returning could prove to be the doom of his dynasty's hard-won empire. And he chose to listen to the warnings of the tribesmen.

 _"_ _They were proud. Even as we hunted them for sport, they bellowed in pride at us, goading us to attack and face them. Seeing them humbled like this…is unnatural. This ancient enemy might doom us all. We must stand as one...or fall." -Ketugu Suogo, Palatine of Chogoris._

But the army of the Palatine, made of heavy infantry and arquebuses, was no match for the weapons of the Ashi-Shoda. The renegade tribe had built steam-powered tanks and six-barreled machine guns during the Exile, choosing to wield technology in their quest for vengeance.

They tore through the Palatine Army like paper. Ketugu Suogo faced down the enemy leader, who towered over him. And just before the Primarch's blade passed through the Palatine's torso, ending his Empire forever, the Palatine had a vision, the first and last of his life.

 _"_ _White and red armoured warriors slaughtering all in their path…."_

 _"_ _The conspiracy his killer would weave beyond sight, using as a cover his barbaric origins…"_

 _"_ _A world burning due to treachery, thousands of valiant warriors perishing only because …."_

 _"_ _Countless worlds burning in the fires of misplaced faith…"_

 _"_ _A shining world reduced in ruins to save countless others…."_

 _"_ _A monstrous entity, dwelling in Hell, roaring his hatred of the Universal Order and his devotion to entities who should not exist…."_

In that moment Ketugu Suogo would realize that the being about to kill him would doom far more than his empire. He would have despaired, but the Khan's blade ended him far before he could do that.

Six months later, the Emperor's armies reached Chogoris, where a new Empire had been founded to replace the Palatine. An Empire founded upon worship of Chaos.

The Emperor reclaimed his Fifth Son, and gave him command of the Legion born of his blood. How He could not see the Ruinous Powers at work on Chogoris behind the scenes is still unknown to the Inquisition _and_ the Alpha Legion.

We can only think He was misled by the Ruinous Powers, who acted in concert to hide the true nature of the Empire his Fifth Son had wrought upon the cursed world.

May the lesson of Chogoris serve as a reminder that Chaos can hide everywhere and of the consequences of ignoring its designs.

END FILE.

* * *

AN: A new force is out...will the Imperium survive?

The 7.000 word ceiling is broken! Review!


	17. Chapter 17: A Desperate Alliance

_"_ _If the Shade of Twilight falls, and is reborn in the unlight of Chaos…. then the Eldar people shall be history, burned away by the Dark King and the foul horror he will create. "- Farseer Asheraniel, at the Council of Mymeara._

-Karina Nebula-

 _An ice world, once capital world of the species who would have built a mighty empire and delivered doom to Mymeara…_

 _An army of the dead, of the Lost and the Damned, who willingly swore their souls to the Ruinous Powers, crawling and marching on the ice…_

 _An army of valiant Mon'keighs, dying and spitting their defiance to the Lost and the Damned…._

 _A red-skinned being, who could have been a symbol of illumination and loyalty, but now bore high the standards of Chaos, damnation springing up wherever he walked…._

 _A cave, where the doom of an empire yet to be born was sealed…._

 _The Dark King of Chaos touching an ancient armor….thousands of years of battles and honor crushed by raw psychic power and replaced by the thirst and the voice of the new overlord…._

 _An undead daemonic being, born out of an ancient Eldar hero, leading an army of daemons and undead towards Mymeara and destroying it...while adding the fallen to its army by sheer power_

 _The same army, bringing death and destruction to a palace spanning a continent, defended by valiant warriors of the Mon'keighs…._

 _And the laughter of the Dark King, sitting on a Throne, who watches as the being who created him centuries before in a lab located under a mountain dies under the blows of his newest servant…_

Farseer Asheraniel of Mymeara woke up from her trance screaming.

Guardians rushed in immediately, their Shuriken Catapults armed and ready. No daemon had ever attempted to possess a Mymearan Farseer, the Infinity Circuit usually protecting the Eldar from such a fate. Still, better safe than sorry. The tales of what had befallen their ancient birth-world were still remembered and retold every year on Mymeara.

"Honored Farseer, are you alright?"

"No, I-I am not…Summon the Council!"

"Yes, My Lady."

Asheraniel realized she was sweating cold. She never had done so.

-One Terran hour later-

The Council Chamber of Mymeara was packed full of Eldar. The Council had been summoned without any warning and not by the High Farseer, the supreme authority of the Craftworld, which was, in her inhabitants' belief, the only one left in the galaxy. Their race was no more, undone by their darkest impulses and the search for ever higher sensations in so-called Pleasure Cults.

Only they had survived. For their ancient birthworld, Mymeara, had been a far flung colony of the ancient Empire, located on its very border. Only their extreme distance had allowed them to construct their world-ship in time to avoid the Fall, and even then, only half of the tens of millions-strong population of the world could be saved, the rest having given in to the foul depravity of the Pleasure Cults. Yet the wisest seers of their people had foreseen such a fate, and had warned everyone. Had their ancestors listened to them sooner, perhaps more could have been saved.

Conscious of that, the Eldar of Mymeara chose to establish the Council of Farseers, which had absolute authority over the Craftworld and her population.

Farseer Asheraniel, who had summoned the Council, opened the proceedings.

"Honored Farseers, I have summoned the Council, for I had a vision of great doom. Magnus the Red, the Crimson King of Chaos, is searching for our ancient savior, Irillyth."

The mere mention of the name brought the entire Craftworld's attention upon her. And not without reason.

Irillyth, the Phoenix Lord of the Shadow Spectres. Savior of Mymeara.

Just a few years after the Craftworld had set sail from the ruins of Mymeara, an horde of Orks had attacked the Craftworld, looking for a good fight. Trouble was, the Orks were not conquering. They were running. A Tuavhno Horde, a race that thought only of devouring and enslaving, was following them.

Mymeara fought hard to repel both the Orks and the Tuavhno, in what the Eldar of Mymeara called the War of Survival. Thousands had died in that war, and the doom of Mymeara was close…until Irillyth arrived.

A disciple of Asurmen, the Phoenix Lord, greatest warrior of the Eldar, he had chosen to aid Mymeara, and in so doing, taught the Eldar of the Craftworld his battle doctrine, founding the Aspect Shrines of the Shadow Spectres that made up the bulk of Mymeara's Aspect Warriors, alongside the Dire Avengers and the Dark Reapers.

The Tuavhno were defeated, their ships destroyed. Irillyth saved the Craftworld once more by warning them about a reptilian race, the Ar-Izader, who would, in three thousand years, create a mighty empire and destroy Mymeara. They gave him a mighty warhost to destroy the Ar-Izader, who had just achieved complete dominance of a ten-system spanning domain.

None had returned. The scouting parties sent to ascertain their fate returned empty-handed.

In the successive years, they discovered the Ar-Izader had indeed been defeated, the few survivors reduced to scavenging among the ruins of their once-powerful domain. But the Mymearan warhost had perished to the last. They searched for Irillyth, but their search was interrupted by a lone ship, a "Star Galleon" belonging to one "Rogue Trader Armininus Kyrinov-Cezare, of the Sibiran Regions." He asked the aliens "to yield to the One, True Emperor of Mankind."

Their Battleships wiped him out from existence in fractions of minutes, executing all the survivors. No one could know of Mymeara's location. By accessing the primitive technological equipment of the alien ship, they had learned of the nascent Imperium of Man. Realizing they could not face this new foe while their armies were still depleted, they retreated deep into an uninhabited region of space, creating the Karina Nebula from star-matter to mask their presence, while sending Rangers to gather information and also to search for Irillyth. Those that had returned spoke of the great Kin-strife that had engulfed the Mon-keighs, and that the Ruinous Powers were behind it all, acting in concert, and that they had enthroned a Dark King to serve as their Champion. Yet, none had found any trace of Irillyth.

"The Dark King seeks Irillyth's location. If he reaches him, he will corrupt him, creating another Fallen Phoenix…and deliver doom to us all."

The Council was silent. All remembered the tale of the Phoenix Lords, the most powerful warriors of their species, the founders of the Aspect Warrior shrines. And all knew of the one that fell and became an insane monster, driven by the same depravities their ancestors wished to leave behind. High Farseer Bel-Karanvel rose.

"How could you receive such visions, when I did not?"

"I know what I saw, High Farseer. The vision was clear. He is looking for the Shade of Twilight."

"How can we be sure that this is not a ploy of the Powers? How can we be sure that they do not want us to reveal our location and thus expose ourselves to She-Who-Thirsts?"

The spectators nodded. The Great Enemy had attempted such a trick once. But their Farseers were not fooled that time.

Farseer Ashraniel was unmoved. "It cannot be. The vision was clear. Too clear to be a trick."

"And you are yet unexperienced on the Path of the Seer. That is also clear."

Asheraniel had to bite back the words she was about to say. Bel-Karanvel had been a Farseer for centuries, and his experience far surpassed her own. She could not believe herself to be more than him. It would have meant an insult and arrogance of the highest order.

The Council was divided. Some believed that any rumor on Irillyth's location had to be pursued, others believed that this was too risky or discounting the vision of Farseer Asheraniel, who had been on the Council only for three stellar cycles (in this case, equivalent to eighteen Terran years).

Another Council member, Farseer Oasavae, rose up. She had three hundred years of experience of being on the Path of the Seer, second only to the High Farseer himself. She was also an unmatched expert in rune casting. "I admit I am torn. While I know that it would not be the first time the Ruinous Powers have tried to lure us out of the Nebula…they never did so by using Irillyth in a vision. They are too scared of the ancient hero. We must consult the Runes of Fate. It is the only way to find the path in such a delicate situation."

The Council agreed. The deadlock had to be resolved.

The runes were cast. The runes of doom and hope appeared at opposite sides, then something unexpected happened. The symbol of the Craftworld appeared. Then a second symbol, the symbol of the Shadow Spectres aspect. Then yet another symbol…which radiated painful unlight. Chaos. It was not, however, the classical eight pointed star the Eldar had learned to recognize and hate. It was the Crimson Sun of Prospero, the symbol of the Fifteenth Legion of the Imperium of Man, and now Standard-Bearers of the Primordial Annihilator. It moved towards the Cursing Eye, touching it. It turned also crimson, then it projected a wave of red light. The light coalesced into a replica of Mymeara, perfect in every small detail. Which then exploded, shattering into countless pieces.

The two symbols returned to normal, then getting ever closer again.

Then a third symbol, one which the Eldar never saw before, joined sides with the symbol of Mymeara and put itself between the Shadow Spectre symbol and the Crimson Sun, impeding contact between the two and allowing the Eldar symbol to remain pure white. It was a skull inside a sun, a symbol no Eldar had ever worn.

Farseer Oasavae's expression was clear. "The runes have spoken. Asheraniel speaks the truth. Mymeara must gear itself for war…and gather allies."

High Farseer Bel-Karanvel was however unmoved. "And to win this, we should ally with …unknown non-Eldar? Unacceptable!"

Oasavae now took Asheraniel's side. "In times such as these, acceptable and unacceptable must be cast aside in the name of the greater good."

Bel-Karanvel was unmoved. "We never had to seek any allies! We are Eldar!"

"I fear your stubbornness will doom us all. If you persist in your opposition, I will call for a Ellya'Thorul." The crowd was silenced.

The Ellya'Thorul was an ancient Mymearan tradition. A relic of the laws of ancient Mymeara, which was not practiced on any other world of the Aeldari Empire, it allowed the Council of Farseers to overrule the rule of the High-Farseer with a majority vote. By tradition, in case of defeat at an Ellya'Thorul, the High Farseer had to step down from the Council. By converse, he or she who called for it had to do the same if the vote went in his or her disfavor. In all of Mymeara's history, it had been called only four times, such was the weight of the process.

The High Farseer, faced with such an indomitable opposition by one of the most revered Seers of Mymeara, and deep down, knowing that he was resisting just because he did not want to yield to an upstart, inexperienced Farseer, no matter how grave the situation was, then relented. "Very well. Our warhost shall be summoned…if Farseer Asheraniel will find who these warriors who bear Sun-Skulls are, and broker the alliance between them and us." The Council nodded in agreement.

Asheraniel felt the weight of destiny on her shoulders. She knew that, if this was a deception of Chaos, she would not return from her mission, lost forever to her people or exiled in shame, unable to return in failure to her people. But, then again, her life did not balance the millions of Eldar on Mymeara. "As you wish, Honored Farseers."

Asheraniel then departed the Council Chamber, heading for the Docking Area of the Mymearan Fleet, guided by the Infinity Circuit, the psychic construct made of the souls of the ancient Mymearan Eldar.

A ship, the Eclipse-class Cruiser _Kurnous' Chosen,_ was waiting for her, the Infinity Circuit having spoken to the crew of the vessel, telling them subconsciously to ready it for departure, knowing the use it would serve.

Thus Farseer Asheraniel of Mymeara set sail, becoming the first Farseer of her world to leave the Maiden's Veil (the Eldar name of the Karina Nebula) in centuries…

-Alpha Centauri System-

"Magnificent, my brother. Simply magnificent."

Leman Russ, Lord of Fenris, the Wolf-King, could only say this when faced with the new battleships forged by the Alpha Centauri Shipyards, gifted to the Wolf King to rebuild the Sixth Legion fleet, which had suffered grave damage during the Burning of Fenris, losing almost all its heavy units to the fury of the Ninth and the Fifteenth Legions.

Rows of newly built Sveipar class Battleships, a new pattern designed by Lukas Chrom himself based upon an STC recovered from a vault located on Deimos, and other, more ancient, ships restored from Reserve Fleets stood ready to be… _personalized_ …by the Space Wolves.

Now, with the new recruits gathered from the Fenris survivors and the Swezian people's sons, the Space Wolves could return to the frontlines once more and exact vengeance on the sons of the Arch-Traitor. Leman Russ desired nothing more than to avenge Mother Fenris.

Suddenly, alarms blared. The Void Shields of all ships were immediately raised as per standard procedure.

"A ship has been detected translating in-system!"

"Traitors?"

"Negative. Sir…it's an Eldar ship! A Cruiser-Carrier!"

The Eldar. A race of powerful psykers, who lived in giant world-ships and piratical warbands, or on primitive worlds with little advanced technology. The Imperium had met all types of Eldar, fighting and cataloguing them. They had learned that the Craftworld Eldar were mostly deceivers and focusing on hit-and-run warfare, while the Exodites were simply seeking to be left alone. Their dark kindred…well, they were another matter entirely. Torture and pain were their main activity, and delighted in inflicting it on other beings…and humans were a prime target of opportunity due to sheer numbers. The Legions had shoot-on sight orders against the Dark Eldar, while the Craftworlds received such designation only with sufficient forces available and if the Craftworld had already initiated hostilities against the Imperium.

"Does it belong to the Dark Eldar?"—asked Russ, who ached for a fight.

"Negative. The symbols upon it do not match any warband currently in our data-stacks. I would say this is a new First Contact with a new faction of Eldar!"

Suddenly, the lights in the Command Center darkened. An image projected in the middle of the assembled Primarchs, depicting a lithe Eldar female, wearing the symbol of the Cursing Eye. Mortarion looked at her. Her eyes projected strength and determination, but he could see a slight feeling of …fear?

 _"_ _We must talk…Lord of Death…or we all shall join the ranks of the dead forever."_

It then disappeared. The lights came back on. Leman Russ was astounded by the xenos' audacity. Creating a ghost-shade and appearing on the bridge of the enemy flagship.

Well, he would show them the price of such foolishness.

"All Legion forces, this is Lord Russ. Target enemy ship…"

"This is the Warmaster. Cancel firing order."

Russ was stunned by his brother's action. "They are xenos, brother. Sorcerers…"

"I know. But in more than two hundred years of the Great Crusade, this is the first time Eldar have sought to parley with our forces. All other occasions ended very soon, when the Eldar fired first. It is odd. And besides we can hear what they want…and _then_ annihilate them."

"They will deceive us with lies! They cannot be trusted!"

"Then it is fortunate that you are here. They might fool one of us, but not both. Your acute sense of smell can detect lies."

Mortarion then turned to the vox-operator. "Tell them we shall meet aboard the _Reaper's Scythe_."

Russ snorted. "What happened to the Lord of Death, Mortarion? The one who swore hatred on any and all witches and xenos?"

 _"_ _He saw nine of his brothers betray him in the name of entities who declare themselves gods and was chosen to become Warmaster against his will. That changes anyone's perspective."_

Russ simply fell silent, his bones chilled to the core by the answer and by the tone in which it was delivered.

-Twenty minutes later-

Farseer Asheraniel of Mymeara exited the transport ship that had brought her from the _Kurnous' Chosen_ to the Mon'Keigh ship, which she found to be a brutish, primitive, yet somewhat-efficient ship. As the Orks could prove, even a wood cudgel could kill. It still bore the unmistakable scars of Eldar weaponry from another battle.

 _Remarkable…to survive a battle against Eldar…_

As she exited, she saw the rows of Death Guard Legionnaires arrayed in the Docking Bay. They did not trust her… but they were in a civil war against _those of their own_ who were once their brothers and now, seduced by Chaos, had become their mortal enemies. Why should they trust an Eldar?

Upon the shoulderplates of the Legionnaires, she saw the Sun-Skull emblem the runes had formed on Mymeara. _So these were the allies the Craftworld needed to survive?_

Suddenly, the Legionnaires parted, revealing a figure that reminded her of the ancient Kaelis Ra, the Destroyer of Light, as described in the legends.

"I am Warmaster Mortarion. Speak, Eldar, what you have to say…and do not attempt any trick. We can and will destroy you and your ship if you attempt anything."

Asheraniel took a breath and then began speaking. Now she needed to be truthful and clear. The paths of the future had shown her this was the optimal course of action. "A grave danger is upon us all. The one whom you call Magnus the Red seeks the body of one of our ancient warrior-heroes. He wants to defile it and create a powerful daemonic being who is prophesied to destroy your Capital World."

The Astartes were outraged. "This is sorcerous deceit! We shall not tolerate any more of this!" -shouted Neren Dragonrage, Wolf Guard of the newly-rebuilt Tra (3rd ) Great Company, who was accompanying Leman Russ.

Mortarion rose his hand. The murmurs of the Death Guard quieted near-instantaneously. Those of the Wolves took a while longer.

Mortarion resumed speaking. "And why do you tell us? It is your warrior. Your problem."

"The problem is that we do not know where he is buried. He has been lost to us for centuries. What we do know, is that our Craftworld…"

"Then you can explain why another Craftworld is killing many Humans in the north of the galaxy and stopping a loyal Legion from coming here to help us!"—shouted Leman Russ.

Asheraniel simply said. "What Craftworld are you talking of?"

Leman Russ was livid. "You must know! It is your race, after all."

Mortarion said: "According to the data the Eighth Legion sent us, they call themselves "Ila'Manesh".

"We never had contact with that Craftworld. Until Irillyth's Coming, we were out of contact from any other Craftworld, and we have been so again ever since his departure. We believed the Phoenix Lords and us were the only one left in the entire galaxy, aside from the _Eladrith Ynneas_."

"Leman. Do you sense any lie?"

"She has to."

"I am not asking you what you think. I ask you again. Is she lying?"

Leman tried again…but then relented. "I smell no lie….or she is hiding it so well I cannot smell it."

Mortarion turned. "Continue."

"What I was saying, is that my Craftworld has not enough forces to oppose the offensive that the Dark King of Chaos is launching…and we want to propose you an alliance between the Imperium and Mymeara, until he is defeated."

Mortarion was perplexed and surprised by the xeno's proposal. He, making an alliance with xenos? Impossible…but then again, these last five years had been an endless gallery of the once-thought impossible. Primarchs revolting against the Emperor and killing their own sons, planets murdered because they were on hte wrong side in a senseless internecine war, Imperial ships firing on each other…the Wolf King close to death at the hands of the Angel, who now was a mighty sorcerer, capable of causing exceptionally strong earthquakes with a glance, enslaved to an entity which had no sense in a sane universe…

Mortarion silently thought about it, while Leman Russ was trying to find out, to sniff any lie in the xeno's words…yet finding none. At the same time, the Dire Avengers escorting the Farseers kept their hands close to the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them, and to give their lives to buy time for the Farseer to escape…

Mortarion then spoke. "How do we know your story is real?"

Asheraniel retorted: "The true question is… _can you take the risk of not believing it?_ Of potentially handing the Dark King the key to galactic domination? Because this is the future we are facing…if he succeeds in his quest."

Leman Russ was stunned that Mortarion was even considering the xeno's words. "It has to be a trap! It has to be! Why can't you see it?"

"It may be…but somehow, I think the Eldar hate Magnus even more than we do. They will not harm us when we are the only realistic chance to defeat him. So I choose to believe her story… _for now_."

Asheraniel was pleased…and worried about keeping the fragile accord intact.

"So we must find your honored warrior before Magnus finds it."

Asheraniel nodded.

- _Reaper's Scythe_ Command Center-

"Where would he be found?"

"According to our tales, he had left to find an alien race who would have threatened Mymeara three thousand years from now. The place is located near the Karina Nebula, however we could not pinpoint the exact location among the thousand worlds in the area."

"The Karina Nebula was deemed impassable by the Mechanicum. Nothing could reside in there."—snorted Russ.

Asheraniel raised an eyebrow. _Primitives. We have been living there for a thousand years. We created it._

"Tech-Priest. Access the Imperial records of any event near the Karina Nebula."

The Tech-Priest handed the Warmaster a report.

 _009.311.M31: 77th Grand Battalion of the Iron Warriors dispatched to the Karina Nebula to find new sources of raw materials for the Palace defenses._

 _009.377.M31: Four Chaos cults purged in the Keulaner Sub-Sector._

 _009.384.M31: One White Scars Cruiser, "Onogura", destroyed._

 _009.904.M31: One xeno race found. Reptilian sub-species. Ice World, provisionally designated "Betalis III". Purging initiated._

 _-End list-_

Not very long to begin with. Then again, what does someone expect to find in a recently-discovered backwater sector with no valuable resources-

Suddenly, Asheraniel felt something. A strong psychic phenomenon had happened. Even Mortarion felt it, no matter his hatred for anything psychic. It was too strong for him to ignore.

"Navigator, pinpoint its location."

"Already done. It was a psychic beam, originating from the Karina Nebula. A world of ice…"

"Betalis III."—Mortarion cut him off.

"Exactly."

Asheraniel suddenly turned ashen white. "We must reach it now! We are out of time!"

Her face spelled out complete dread and panic. Mortarion knew _that_ could not be faked. She was truly terrified. An absolutely terrified Eldar…was even more frightening than an Exarch trying to kill you, Mortarion discovered to his astonishment.

"Why? Are your kind not fast enough…" -snorted Russ, who was cut off mid-sentence by Mortarion's cold face.

"Navigator, set a course for Betalis III, immediately. Enginseer, give us the maximum possible speed."

"Yes, Warmaster."

Mortarion then turned to Russ. "Leave the ship. Go to Terra with the Wolves. Protect the Palace until the Death Guard returns."

"What..."

"Do as I said, Russ."

"Yes, brother." He said the last word with some sort of angry undertone that Mortarion did not miss, yet chose to ignore. He would apologize to Russ later. Now was the time to make war.

The Death Guard ships entered the Warp, while the Space Wolves ships prepared themselves to return to Terra.

In the Warp, Mortarion turned to Asheraniel. "What do you think it was?"

"It was a _Kellim_. An ancient automatic alert system of my kind, deployed to protect important artefacts. If something non-Eldar breaches the area, the system kills the intruders and launches a psychic flare which would alert my kind to the breach, in order to recover the artefacts stored within."

"If we could feel it…if I could feel it…then Magnus certainly has. Time is not on our side."

Asheraniel could not help but note something.

 _He said our side. Not his_.

-Raimos System-

Another world falling to the might of the Fifteenth Legion. The sight was marvelous.

Khalophis, Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult, looked upon the ash-strewn ruins of the Hive World of Raimos IV.

A world he had destroyed through his mastery of the Legio Cybernetica.

The world was well defended by Army forces and even by 400 Iron Hands, but was no match for the massed firepower of the Thanatar-Achaea Siege Automata and the Legio Lacrymae's long-range Warmongers.

All of which directed by the Black Iron Cores built by the Magos-Dominus Tacitus Proctor, of Zhao-Arkkad. The Forge World, built in the far galactic south and protected by 3000 Fifteenth Legion Astartes, had served the Legion well, by providing war-material and installing dozens of forges in the Prosperine Dominion's worlds. These had become the source of the Fifteenth Legion's _Osorkon_ , their Robotic Army, made solely of the most perfect automatons ever built: the Thanatar-Achea and the Castellan-Achea Battle Automata.

The authorities of the last city had swiftly surrendered after the local Army regiments were turned by the Athanaeans into a mass of blood-thirsty monsters devoid of any higher brain functions. All they had to do was shut down the prefrontal cortex in their brain and bombard them with the urge to kill. The rest came on its own.

The sight of burning buildings made Khalophis swell with pride….and hate, all at the same time.

 _You wanted to shackle us, False Emperor? To deny us what is ours? Here is how the sons of Prospero pay back, you Tyrant._

An astropath was brought before Khalophis. It immediately went into a seizure. The Sign.

"So…tell me what my father wants to tell me."

The astropath stood ramrod straight, his eyes becoming a fiery crimson. He then began to speak with a voice not its own. The voice of Magnus the Red.

"My son."

Khalophis moved to his knees, imitated by all Thousand Sons in the vicinity. "Father."

"Take your forces to Betalis III. The Eldar have discovered my plan. Your forces are the closest to the site. Thus, it is up to you to claim the ancient soul of the Eldar Hero. Capture it and bring it to me."

"Yes, father." The link was cut. The astropath petrified, then fell down, shattering into stone which soon turned to dust, his body unable to withstand the sheer power of Magnus' mind.

Khalophis turned to his Scarab Occult. He began a telepathic communication with his guards.

 _"Ready the fleet. All forces must be embarked. Set course for the Karina Nebula."_

 _"It will be done, my Lord."_

-Betalis III-

Warsmith Kyr Vhalen' Command Post was in a frenzy. An entire freaking Death Guard fleet had translated in-system without any warning, nor any Astropathic messages telling him of the events. Though he understood why that contingency. With those damn Athanaeans, every message was at risk of being intercepted and altered to suit the Traitors' will. Cac-Wzon was devastating proof of that.

This forced the Loyalists to maintain regular action stations at all times, creating a stringent system of rotations to ensure all essential stations were manned at all times, without any gap, while denying them access to intelligence. Only the Alpha Legion seemed able to enjoy freedom from the curse of the Athanaeans, but they would not disclose the method they used, for fear the Traitors would discover it and adapt accordingly.

There was no day in which Kyr Vhalen did not curse Magnus the Red for his betrayal.

Once, he would have been glad to be back in action. Now, he hoped just to survive the madness of this Age with his sanity intact.

Not that he had never seen monsters…just not those with human skin.

Kyr Vhalen was inducted into the Iron Warriors after they freed his birth world, Meru, from the brutal oppression of the Vrauam Primacy. As a Battle-Brother, he had fought on the Vrauam homeworld, finally ending the vile xenos' existence and avenging countless years of exploitation.

He became Warsmith of the 77th during the action against the Zakalis Empire, when the xenos had destroyed the Battalion's command ship with a suicide attack. He had taken command and forced the xenos back using his remaining ordnance as mines, destroying twelve enemy ships.

After that, he had suppressed the Therikon Dominate, a human realm which had broken away from the Imperium, later revealed to be under the control of the Xenarch race. It was there he gained the epithet "Shatterblade": he had fought nine hours with a broken Xenarch blade in the chest without being slowed in the slightest. Those humans however had not willingly betrayed the Imperium: the xenos had infected them with genetically engineered parasites which overrode their brains' higher functions and forced them to do the bidding of their masters. They were not guilty of betrayal. They had no choice.

After the cleansing of the Xenarch infestation from the area, he had been made Overseer of the newly-founded Therikon Sector, and there had been left alone by the Crusade's ever-marching activity for years.

It was only when he returned to Paramar V to restock on supplies for the Therikon Sector, he had discovered that the Crusade was over, and that the Heresy had begun. The mere memory of the discovery still made him want to shoot anything even closely related to the Fifteenth Legion.

He had headed to Terra, and had helped in the fortification of the Imperial Palace. Then Perturabo had dispatched him here to seek raw materials for the Jovian Defensive Perimeter, which had to be upgraded due to failing Perturabo's exacting requirements, and all Forge Worlds in the Segmentum Solar were at peak production capacity.

He had taken a group of ships from the Fleet Reserve and a group of Mechanicum Magi and had headed into the void, seeking out valuable worlds to mine.

The 77th Grand Battalion had explored dozens of worlds, seeking out potential mining reserves. They had even discovered three lost human worlds, one of them being a Knight World named Tyrinth, and brought them into compliance, its ruling House swearing loyalty to Kyr Vhalen. After six months of establishing new mining outposts in the newly-named Tyrinth Sector and new supply lines from there to Sol, they traversed the Warp again, ending up near the unexplained stellar phenomenon called the Karina Nebula. It was then they had discovered Betalis III.

It was a ball of ice, lost in a backwater area, inhabited only by a reptilian species of scavengers which was promptly purged. The world was littered with alien technology, with many Eldar artefacts recovered and studied by the Mechanicum. He hated the world. Not because of its freezing-level temperatures, which ranged from -33 to -78 °C. During winter, the temperatures could drop even lower and could cause Leman Russ tank fuel to freeze solid in the vehicles' engine compartments.

He hated it because it somehow seemed to attract enemies like a magnet. First they had to fight thousands of Khorchin Cultists who had gotten lost in the Warp aboard a captured Battleship and wanted to "add their souls to the court of the Dark Prince." Whatever that meant.

Next came an Ork warband with five Kill Kroozers. Then some sort of ancient machinery triggering a cave-in and killing his mining teams, while simultaneously sending a psychic flare of some kind out into space.

And now the Death Guard coming in force.

Kyr Vhalen looked at his Auspexes with his one remaining eye (the other lost to a Xenarch warrior many years before).

"Well, let's hope the Warmaster just wants to resupply. If not…well, it appears we are in for a battle."

-Landing Pad 28-

The _Fourth Horseman_ landed on the pad. The Iron Warriors immediately moved to salute.

Kyr Vhalen moved towards Mortarion. "Warmaster. What brings you here to my frozen wor—"

The question died away when he saw the Warmaster's passengers. An Eldar team led by a sorcerer.

"What are they-"

"Warsmith. The Eldar here are allies. Treat them accordingly."

"What? Are we so desperate that we consort with xenos now?"

"On this planet there is something very powerful their race prizes heavily. And Magnus the Red wants it as well. So we are here to help the Eldar to protect the world and deny Magnus what he wants."

"What are we speaking of?"

Asheraniel spoke. "With it, the Dark King will forge one of the foulest weapons the galaxy has ever seen…and win the war for Chaos. That is all you need to know."

Kyr Vhalen was skeptical, but if Warmaster Mortarion, the Bane of All Psykers, deemed it right to ally himself with the Eldar…then the situation might be just as desperate as it looked, if not even worse.

"Very well. But this is just a mining expedition. We need more artillery…"

"The Death Guard will provide you with everything you need."

Soon, thousands of Astartes deployed upon the ice world in Stormbirds and Thunderhawks, which stayed just enough to disembark their complement of troops and supplies before returning back to orbit. Leviathan Dreadnoughts, Spartan Assault Tanks, Sicaran MBTs, Fellblade Super-Heavy Tanks, Predators and Rhino APCs were soon arrayed upon the icy plains of Betalis III. The Armoured forces of the Death Guard were unleashed once more.

From the sky soon descended a freighter carrying tons of fuel for the Defensive Perimeter. The entire cargo of fuel would allow the base to keep firing for months on end. New Pulse Lance Batteries were installed, along with the power generators required to keep them online and firing in the freezing climate.

From the Battleships, mobile Prefabricated fortresses were deployed, creating a system of command posts from where individual batteries would be controlled and fired. The Iron Warriors soon installed booby traps and fail-deadly systems, designed to deny the enemy their possession no matter the fate of their garrison.

At the same time, Mechanicum transports landed, disgorging a vital cargo: the entirety of the Legio Vulcanum Prima, redeployed from Stygies VIII to assist in the battle. Their complement of Reavers and Warhounds would prove invaluable, while the Imperator and Warmonger Titans would give long-range support.

Mortarion knew however they needed more, to make sure the Traitors would never get what they wanted before the Eldar scout teams found it.

He believed, however, that the warrior they sought was so important to their people that they would give their all in this battle.

-Mymeara-

Mortarion was entirely correct.

The psychic flare coming from the Ice World had been felt by all Eldar on Mymeara. The Infinity Circuit guided many Eldar to the Aspect Shrines of the Warriors. Most donned the armor of the Shadow Spectres, whose Phoenix Lord was the objective of the battle. Others became Dire Avengers, Dark Reapers, Fire Dragons, Swooping Hawks. Many others became Guardians, abandoning temporarily the Path they were following. The Bonesingers abandoned their statues to build Grav-tanks, complete unfinished Titans and speed up the construction of starships for the Mymeara fleet. The Spiritseers went to awaken the Wraithguard, the Wraithlords and even the very rare Wraithseers, the ancient Farseers and Warlocks of old, given a chance to fight beyond death, were awakened. Spirit Stones were plucked from the Infinity Circuit and hosted into Wraithbone war-bodies. The Wraithseers themselves would aid the Spiritseers in guiding the army.

All this would be required to keep the Traitors occupied, while the Ranger squads searched for Irillyth's armor.

Yet, they knew they needed more. So they called for Kaela Mensha Khaine himself to assist them in the battle.

Exarch Lenruin of the Dire Avengers offered himself as the sacrifice to awaken the Avatar of Khaine. He was anointed Young King and entered the Avatar's chamber.

The Mymearan Warhost- the Cursing Eye of Asuryan- was unleashed once more.

High Farseer Bel-Karanvel stepped down from his post to serve in the Army as a War Farseer, as did all Farseers on the Council. No one could be spared in a battle of such monumental importance for the survival of their Craftworld.

From the ice rose ancient Webway portals, long abandoned yet still functioning. They created Webway vortexes which allowed the army of Mymeara immediate arrival on Betalis III. From them came Wave Serpents, Falcon Grav-Tanks, and even Titan battlegroups. The Death Guard had fought Eldar Titans before, but Mymeara possessed such warmachines in numbers never seen before by Imperial forces.

Moreover, the Mymearan Eldar were not alone. The Sky Raiders Corsair warband, 800-ship strong, bound by pacts of honor to the Mymearan Craftworld, came in its entirety to aid the Craftworld. Even the Void Dragons, one of the most powerful Corsair warbands, sent 200 ships to aid in the battle…with a price tag.

When the combined Eldar fleet exited the Karina Nebula and entered planetary orbit, while deploying Haven Spires to bolster the Defensive Perimeter, the Death Guard could not help but be awed by the xeno fleet, despite their beliefs in human superiority.

"Is this the power you once wielded?"

Farseer Asheraniel sadly said: "A fraction of what was once ours to wield."

"And how was that lost? Who could destroy you?"

 _"_ _We did."_

Mortarion could not understand, it seemed a great secret was about to be revealed, then he received a message from his First Captain, Calas Typhon.

 _"_ _Traitors inbound, outrider ships detected in Dimale."_

Mortarion turned to her. "It appears your story is true. The enemy has been detected in the system closest to ours. They are coming here."

"I will alert the Spiritseers. They must awaken more of the Wraithguard and the Wraithlords immediately".

Curious, Mortarion looked as more Wraithbone bodies were loaded with the Spirit Stones, allowing them to become active.

He then had a sudden realization. "Those are your dead!"

"Yes, they are."—Asheraniel said simply.

"This is necromancy! This is—" Mortarion stopped himself before he could say anything worse. To him, forcing the dead to serve was the highest crime imaginable. For he had seen, and fought, aberrations who built their armies out of dead bodies, on Barbarus.

To his astonishment, the Farseer chuckled. She seemed…. _to laugh._

"Most of our people think of the Spiritseers _exactly as you do,_ Lord of Death. _Necromancers. Those who awaken the dead and force them to serve once more._ Yes. They are that. But if the dead hadn't joined our side in battle when they were needed, we would have joined their ranks forever, and Mymeara would have become the playground of Ork Warbosses, who would have used our halls to house their filthy war-beasts…or worse. Your Imperium can count upon trillions of living humans. We, Eldar of Mymeara, do not possess such luxuries."

Mortarion stood silent. His emotional side was telling him to destroy such abominations, but his rational side, who was ever more dominant in his mind since the Dusk Coup, crushed such emotions.

When faced with oblivion, with few living warriors, and with the ability to call upon the dead for help, who would willingly choose oblivion?

Not even _he_ would. He assumed he understood the Eldar's perspective. Besides, they were fighting for survival. The dead were not used as pawns in petty battles for domination of slaves between overlords...

He looked upon the Auspexes installed into the Command Center. A group of vessels had just exited the Warp. IFF signatures read them as Human ships, of the 582nd Expeditionary Fleet, one known to be led by the Thousand Sons.

The Traitors had arrived.

"It begins."

* * *

AN: I am back!

Real-life was a mess this month (exams) , thus the delay in writing the next parts of the story.

Hope you enjoy! Please review!


	18. Chapter 18: The Battle of Betalis III

CHAPTER 25: Betalis III

"This planet is a ball of ice, apparently devoid of any significant resource. At the time of Ullanor, it had not yet been discovered…and yet it is here, of all places, that the future of the galaxy may be irrevocably decided. Not on Terra. Not on Prospero. The crossroad of destiny…lies here, on Betalis III." -Warmaster Mortarion

-Orbit of Betalis III-

59 Traitor vessels exited the Warp at the Mandeville Point of the Betalis System.

5 Battleships, 30 Heavy Cruisers, 14 Light Cruisers, 10 Frigates. The vanguard of a more massive fleet which had yet to arrive.

The Sky Raiders were the first to engage. Their Holo-fields made it very difficult for the Traitors to lock on the Eldar ships, which had no such limitations against the Traitor ships...

-Bridge of the _Nuwa_ -

Grand Admiral Caius Nelaker was a veteran of countless battles. He had fought against the Thunder Claw pirates of the Weissis Cluster, against the Ork hordes of the Empire of Mordakka, and once, with the Thousand Sons, against the Eldar of Craftworld Theminarae.

That was why Khalophis had chosen him to lead the first wave. He had experience fighting Eldar raiders. A gift which few had.

Now, however, he was faced by a tactical scenario no one had ever anticipated, because it was believed to be impossible.

 _Humans and Eldar fighting side by side._

It was simply impossible. The False Emperor had clearly forbidden human-xeno cooperation, with standing orders to destroy any and all xenos encountered.

To think the Death Guard would so blatantly disobey such orders… Yet here there was the unmistakable proof.

An Eldar carrier launched a swarm of fighters. The Grand Admiral responded by launching his own, while ordering Defensive batteries to fire with a wide-dispersing pattern.

"Do not worry, Grand Admiral. I will help your fleet target them."

Battle-Brother Djataten. The Overseer of the fleet. Caius Nelaker knew he was there not just to help his fleet win, but also to make sure the Grand Admiral did not have…inconvenient…thoughts.

His loyalty was to the Thousand Sons, which had chosen him to serve in their fleet and allowing him to rise through the ranks. Why should they doubt that?

He saw an Eldar craft explode, hit with preternatural accuracy by the _Nuwa_ 's point-defense cannons. The battle was beginning well.

" The Eldar fighters are retreating, sir!"

"They'll be back soon, Helmsman. Keep your course. Fighters, return to CAP formation."

"Copy, sir."

Djataten was, however, skeptical. Why would the Eldar retreat wh-

The _Nuwa_ was shaken by an explosion. Three Heavy Cruisers and five Escorts ahead of them had exploded, without any warning.

That could mean only one thing. A minefield. The Eldar had deployed a minefield, while the fighters were keeping them distracted. This would prove a major obstacle...

- _Holy Sun_ Command Tower-

Khalophis was worried. That minefield could cause massive delays to their operation, and buy time for the Eldar to reach the Shade of Twilight before him.

A Void Stalker-class Battleship of Mymeara was getting close for another pass. Too close, in his opinion.

This left him only one possible course of action.

"Disengage cloaking device. Pulse Lances, fire when ready on Grid 30."

"Yes sir."

To the astonishment of the Eldar, the Mymearan Battleship was hit by two massive Lance beams, which bisected it from bow to stern. And a massive ship appeared.

The Auspexes registered it as Human, unknown pattern, 30 kilometers in length. Trident-shaped, it boasted primary and secondary Void Shields. Large Adamantium plates on its port and starboard sides, it boasted enough armament to level an entire planet by itself.

Atop a large cathedral, there was a massive sun. The Crimson Sun of Prospero.

It began to traverse the minefield, the Eldar mines exploding on its Void Shields without any visible effect, such was its mass.

Mortarion looked at the Auspexes. Outwardly, he was calm.

Inwardly, anxiety was mounting.

The massive ship had traversed the battlefield, coming towards the Loyalist defensive line. The other Traitor ships formed up behind it and came towards the planet as well, ready to add their firepower to that of the monster that was leading them.

Kyr Vhalen ordered the Defensive Grid to start firing at will. But the massive Lasers did not visibly dent the massive ship's Void Shields.

Asheraniel deployed her powers, to see into the myriad threads of the future and find the one which better suited the Eldar and Loyalist chances. After some seconds, she found the appropriate course of action.

"Eldar vessels, ignore that monster. Concentrate your fire on the other ships. Destroy as many as you can!"

Kyr Vhalen looked at her with a skeptical look. She simply replied.

"Our firepower has no chance to destroy it. So we must prevent the other ships from adding their complement to the ground troops present upon that massive ship."

Mortarion saw through her plans. "That ship and her complement are a certainty. The others are not. We can destroy them instead."

"That titan will dismantle our entire defense grid!"

"No. It will just create a hole in it. Remember, their objective is to get Irillyth before we do. Destroying all our stations would take time, time he knows he doesn't have."

Mortarion knew that. "Defense Grid, ignore the enemy titan. Target the other vessels exclusively."

"Copy that." The Defense Grid entered new targeting solutions...

-Bridge of the _Nuwa_ -

The Grand Admiral was jubilant. The _Holy Sun_ had cleared the minefield. Now, the Defense Grid would be….

A massive impact shook the Nuwa.

"What the…."

He then saw an Eldar bomber, painted in the colours of the Void Dragons, fly away from his viewer.

"Primary Lances offline. Gun decks 1 and 2 offline and venting atmosphere! Our Void Shield generator is down! Activating emergency shield!"

Caius Nelaker did not have time to respond, as a damaged Wrath Starfighter of the Iron Warriors launched itself at the bridge, firing all its ordnance and dropping its emergency shields for five seconds. More than enough to accelerate and crash into the Command Tower, killing the Grand Admiral and the entire bridge crew.

The _Nuwa_ lost control and fell behind , falling down aimlessly. The remaining ships launched themselves forward, hoping to be fast enough to run the enemy blockade.

-Eastern Continent of Betalis III-

The Traitor Super Battleship smashed a sector of the Defense Grid, destroying a Death Guard Battleship and a group of Sky Raider cruisers and took position 40 kilometers above ground. Only two Repulsive Grand Cruisers managed to run the Defense Grid and do the same, kept aloft against the force of gravity by the Raptora Cult's sorcerers and by the Zhao-Arkkad's Mark I Antigravity Systems, reverse engineered from Dark Eldar ships.

From the three ships landed an entire Spireguard army corps: the 3rd Army Corps, made out of hundreds of regiments assembled together. The massive hangar doors of the _Holy Sun_ opened, allowing thousands of Attack Craft to take off and contest Eldar fighters for air supremacy.

They would be however only of support to the main forces: 15000 Thousand Sons, who would deploy their entire arsenal of sorcery to win the battle.

-32nd Urslavik Regiment, part of Prospero Spireguard 3rd Army Corps-

Colonel Pescennius Ewunia looked at the endless ice plains from the viewing screen of his Stormhammer Super-Heavy Tank. This was a really bad environment to make war in.

"Quintilius, how is the fuel?"

"Indicators are all green. We are clear to go. Let's hope the weather stays consistent. This tank does not run on frozen fuel."

"To all Triarii forces, this is Colonel Ewunia. Commence firing against enemy positions."

The Triarii started firing. Stormhammers, Apophis Tanks (renamed Leman Russ Tanks, for the Thousand Sons would not countenance any kind of reference to the Sixth Legion) and Malcador Heavy Tanks from the 34th Urslavik fired upon Iron Warriors positions.

Ewunia voxed his attached Sentinel scout walker.

"Scout 3, do you see anything?"

"Negative, I …. Contact! Contact! Multiple Eldar soldiers approaching. They seem…to be levitating!"

"Levitating?! Frakking xenos… Order the Apophis to advance. Keep the Super-Heavies in reserve and use them for cover fire. They would be useless against foot soldiers."

"Copy."

The Apophis Tanks advanced. "Sir, this is Apophis 2-7. We do not see anything."

"How…Scout 3, do you confirm enemy sighting?"

No response. "Scout 3!"

An explosion was the answer. Apophis 2-7 was now a charred wreck, pierced by high-precision Prism Rifle fire.

"What the…" Another explosion. Apophis 2-4 was down.

"They are picking us off!"

Suddenly, the Stormhammer's systems went offline. A Haywire grenade had been detonated, triggering an EMP that fried everything in range.

"Hell…EMP! The vehicles are toast! We must evacuate them, we are sitting Groxes out here !" The crew immediately complied. But Colonel Pescennius Ewunia exited first…and was immediately killed, his head destroyed by a Reaper Launcher missile. The remaining crew used the emergency hatches to exit, but they were picked off one by one by the Swooping Hawks coming from the sky to take them to their deaths.

The other tanks tried to retreat, but they were faced by the sound of death itself. A Hemlock Wraithfighter. The Spiritseer piloting it, Talseith of Mymeara, channeled the feelings of the dead and created a wave of terror. The human tanks below increased speed, but then Talseith fired the D-scythes.

The tanks of the Triarii would be recovered intact by the Iron Warriors, as the bodies of the crew would be. They had simply dropped dead, their souls sucked into the Immaterium.

The entire action had lasted less than fifteen Terran minutes. In fifteen minutes, five thousands Urslaviks, one of the Old Hundred regiments who had survived the Unification Wars and one of the two who chose to betray the Emperor (the other was the Byzant Janissars, attached to the Sons of Horus) died at the hands of the Eldar.

Farseer Taelya of Mymeara looked with satisfaction at her warriors' work. "Targets destroyed. Search for the others."

- _Holy Sun_ Command Center-

Khalophis looked at the situation. The Eldar seemed to possess a new type of warriors, one that negated the strength of the Armoured forces he had brought.

He needed to give more time to his search teams. Telepathically he summoned his Scarab Occult.

"Alert our brothers. We must go into the fray."

"Yes, brother-Captain."

-Armoured position 24-Beta-

Sergeant Theomenes Ventabius of the Iron Warriors felt an earthquake. It intensified….until it suddenly weakened and stopped.

Then another. And another.

The Iron Warrior suddenly remembered one thing. Betalis III was an ancient world, tectonically stable, frozen solid in a millennia-long Ice Age.

Quakes on such a world could only mean one thing.

He turned to his vox-operator. "Send a message to HQ. The enemy has deployed Titans. Prepare accordingly."

He then attempted to activate the main artillery positions, but did not get the time, as a Plasma Annihilator shot pulverized him where he stood.

The blast wave was instantly visible from kilometres, and Kyr Vhalen recognized it instantly.

The enemy had Imperators in his arsenal. And Warmongers, as the missiles that impacted the Loyalist HQ's Void Shields demonstrated.

"This day keeps getting better and better."

Farseer Asheraniel entered the streams of time, looking into the numberless futures available to her and searched for the optimal strategy. The strands of time unwove before her, displaying each and every event as it would unfold. When she found the most favorable strand, she exited the streams and began a telepathic communication.

"Meneshin, we need support. Bring the _Kurnous' Chosen_ into the atmosphere and deploy all fighters and Vampire Hunters you can. Tell Baranvar's forces to advance as well."

"Yes, Honored Farseer."

She then turned to the Warsmith. "Open fire with all your guns. We must keep them distracted from the incoming air attack".

Kyr Vhalen hesitantly complied. He was still not suited to taking orders from an Eldar. But the Warmaster had given her a temporary command role. Her orders were like his own. So he complied.

-Imperator-class Titan _Glory of Boracora Lux_ -

Princeps Leandor Turkuish of the Legio Lacrymae scoffed at the enemy artillery barrage. At this distance, they had no hope of breaching their Void Shields. The Death Guard had no hope.

It never stood a chance against the valiant armies of the New Kingdom.

A sudden blip on the Auspexes got his attention. It then disappeared. "Check the Auspexes, there has to be some glitch..."

From nowhere, a massive Eldar bomber emerged. It attacked one of the Reavers, _Valiant Herald,_ with a missile barrage. The Reavers' Apocalypse Missile Launcher, still loaded with high-explosive missiles, exploded, delivering a mortal blow to the warmachine, which toppled down on the ice pack.

Two seconds later, another Reaver went down, killed in the same manner.

"What the…Order the Warmongers to lay in AA fire!"

The Warmongers'AA fire activated immediately, the Black Iron Cores installed allowing fully automatic fire. Several escorting Nightwings were destroyed, but even in death, they were dangerous, as the skilled Eldar pilots crashed them against the Titans' shields, draining them.

Suddenly a Warmonger's head was drilled through by a massive ray of light. A Pulsar. The massive walker, now directionless, automatically shut down. Another Pulsar ray bisected it from the top down. Its two halves fell down into the snow.

Mymeara's Titans and Wraithknights had joined the fray. Dozens of then, firing their arm-mounted weapons with an accuracy human forces could only dream of.

Princeps Turkuish fired everything he could, but the Eldar were too fast for his Titan's targeting sensors. His Gatling Guns successfully hit a Revenant Titan, but then suddenly the right arm of the Glory was severed by a Wraithsword, wielded by a Wraithknight. The Legio Lacrymae had no choice but to withdraw if it wanted to fight another day.

The Thousand Sons responded. Combining their powers, they began to manipulate the weather patterns, creating an artificial hurricane near the battlefield, which then rapidly moved towards the Eldar forces, which were forced to stop and hold positions in order not to be toppled by the wind. Even then, several Revenant Titans were toppled by the force of the winds manipulated by the Thousand Sons.

Then the Raptora cult lifted up a kilometer-wide mountain. Ignoring the strain the planet was suffering, they tore it from the bedrock and tossed it straight towards the Eldar.

The Farseers struggled to respond to such a massive projectile, and requested the help of the Death Guard, which softened up the massive rock with their artillery, allowing the Eldar forces to break it up psychically.

Still, the strain had cost the Eldar dearly. Two Farseers and ten Warlocks had died under the strain, reduced to thin dust, or attacked by Thousand Sons curses hidden in secret death-phrases pronounced and unleashed in the wind. Their souls were preserved by their Spirit Stones.

But Khalophis was not yet done. He concentrated a massive amount of Warp power and aimed at the _Kurnous' Chosen._

The ship began to move like a puppet in his hands, and he forced it down.

The Eldar crew tried to compensate, but Khalophis and his brothers' power was too great, calling upon unholy sources located deep in the Immaterium.

The Cruiser began to strain under the effort to react, but even Wraithbone could break, given a sufficient force. Psychic power conduits began to explode, creating holes in the hull. The solar sails were torn apart by the Chaotic winds, and the proud ship broke apart, its wreckage crashing down on the ice plains. Khalophis captured the departing soul of the shipmaster and consumed it, replenishing his power while ignoring the shrieks of the dissolving consciousness of the eight-centuries old Eldar. The dying shrieks of the Eldar shipmaster reached Asheraniel, who was horrified by the fate her friend had been subjected to…as was Mortarion, who had witnessed it through the sudden outburst of psychic power of the Eldar seeress, brought on by a momentary slip in her mental barriers caused by the sudden deluge of emotions.

 _Magnus…is this what you taught your sons? To consume others' souls as a tank consumes Promethium to function? You are merely proving I was right at Nikaea._

Mortarion contacted his fleet. "Typhon, status report."

"The situation is critical up here, Father. More enemy ships incoming…and Father…it's the Ultramarines."

 _Damn_. _The last thing we needed right now._

"Keep them away from the planet at all costs. Tell the _Deathstorm_ it is her time."

"Yes, Father."

-Space above Betalis III-

Tauro Nicodemus, Tetrarch of the Ultramarines, sat on the Command Throne of his ship. Once, the Battleship was called the _Vehement Warrior._

Now, she had a new name. The _Herald of Pain._

On her bridge, Slaaneshi cultists, their senses heightened by a combination of Warp mutations bestowed upon them by the Goddess and special narcotic substances concocted by the Thirteenth Legion's Apothecaries, now called the Angels of Ecstasy by the worshippers of Slaanesh.

For it was them that had the authority to call a son or a daughter of cultists to his labs, to be reshaped into something closer to the vision of perfection their new goddess had shown them through her chosen Champion, Roboute Guilliman the Great. He deserved that title six thousand times.

It was he, who after a spiritual experience in the ruins of Theminarae, a Craftworld destroyed by the Fifteenth Legion, had seen the Sixfold Path of Slaanesh, and had spread it to his Legion.

The fools who had refused the glorious vision had been purged on the killing grounds of Danarch. How the Ultramarines had enjoyed killing those fools...the experience had been almost intoxicating.

Now, the Goddess had brought them here, to face the Death Guard, and punish the foolish Eldar who had created the Goddess of Pleasure, yet denied her the veneration she deserved, and had been broken by her rage.

"Stelioc, prepare your Company."

A voice that sounded like cackling laughter, with moans of pleasure in the background, answered back. "Yes, Tetrarch."

Tauro Nicodemus' armor pumped into him another dose of Lenbryn-White, a narcotic crafted together by the Angels of Ecstasy from the breaking down of Eldar bodies harvested from an Exodite World his forces had devastated one month before.

 _Yes…this would be a good battle…indeed._

"My Lord, a Death Guard ship is moving towards the Thousand Sons ships. It is an Ironclad!"

"Ignore it. Deploy the dropships to the surface. Concentrate fire upon the Eldar ships. Punish the Soulbroken for their foul sin against the Dark Prince!"

-On the surface-

The dropships of the Ultramarines landed upon Betalis III, and they assaulted the closest enemy forces they could find.

The unfortunates were the 392nd Seleucid Thorakites, an Army regiment attached to the Iron Warriors.

The lucky ones were those who died by bolter. They did not have to endure the foul tortures the Thirteenth Legion unleashed upon those they captured in battle. They drugged them and forced them to torture each other in the foulest possible ways…

 _-Warning: This part has been suppressed by order of the Ordo Malleus. -_

Then they charged the Eldar lines, eager to taste Eldar souls. The Avatar of Khaine, together with the Dire Avengers and the Fire Dragons, met them in battle.

Mortarion looked on at the monstrosities that wore the armor of the Thirteenth Legion, the azure blue replaced by electric blue and pink, asking himself how could someone willingly want to become such a monster...

Asheraniel received a psychic report…

" _A group of Guardians have found the Ar-Izader capital city. Irillyth must be inside. We need to reach him now!"_

She went towards Mortarion. "Our scouts have found Irillyth."

Mortarion did not lose time. "All companies in my grid, form up on me! We have located the Primary Objective. Everybody else, remain here and stop those _things_ from following us down!"

\- Aboard the _Deathstorm_ -

"We have reached position above target. The Ultramarines are ignoring us."

"Good! Prepare the launch tubes."

The _Deathstorm_ was an ancient ship, at least two millennia old. It had served in countless battles under the Emperor, until her near-fatal wounding against the Orks during the battle against the Ork Empire of Wolrab Muzzlebusta, the Arch-Burner, near the Maelstrom.

The Death Guard had repaired her and converted her for a very special use. Not for her the planetkiller weapons of the Battle Barges.

The ship was outfitted with 2000 Drop Pod Launchers, intended for the mass launch of two thousand Space Marines at once. Each launcher was loaded and primed. Now, the target was plain below her.

The _Holy Sun._

" _Deathstorm_ to all Death Guard forces, we are ready to launch the drop pods. Drop the shields of the enemy battleship so we can go in." This was an insane plan. Dropping atop the enemy battleship and take it from above…suicidal. And the two-thousand Death Guards chosen for this knew it. Yet, not one stepped back.

The bombardment began in earnest. The _Holy Sun_ 's shields held on for twenty minutes and dropped momentarily under the onslaught of both human and Eldar fire, due to the recalibration sequence required to restore them to full power once more.

More than enough for two thousand Drop Pods to land upon its superstructure, crashing into the decorative cathedrals built atop it. The Death Guard Astartes emerged from the pods and began slaughtering the cultists that opposed them.

The Prospero Spireguard responded to the sudden boarding action with shock, and then resolved to kill the Death Guard intruders.

The ship itself, partially self-aware, opposed the Death Guard actions. Bulkheads would close without warning and crush Fourteenth Legion Astartes between them. Conduits would spontaneously explode when Death Guard Astartes passed near them. Argon-based fire suppressant systems would trigger, attempting to suffocate the Astartes. Had they been from any other Legion, this would have succeeded, the boarding party exterminated to the last.

But the Death Guard was the master of Zone Mortalis operations. They fought without helmets in atmospheres with normally lethal concentrations of Xenon, hydrogen cyanide, sulphuric acids….all put together.

Thus the Death Guard reached their target, their strength reduced by merely 40%.

The Main Fusion reactor of the _Holy Sun._ It was big as a twenty-story building, with the main energy chamber located exactly at the center. Inside there was enough energy to provide power to an entire planet…

Commander Ignatius Grulgor of the Death Guard, who had volunteered for the suicide mission, began to disengage the cooling systems that kept the gargantuan energy core stable….

-On the battlefields of Betalis III-

Khalophis felt the _Holy Sun_ 's telepathic call for help.

He turned to his Scarab Occult. "Nubkhekhat, stop them! Protect the ship with your life!"

The Cataphractii-armoured warrior pulled out a knife of crude iron, and swung it in the air. Suddenly, the Materium parted, and Nubkhekhat and 300 Thousand Sons stepped through…reemerging straight into the Main Fusion Reactor area of the Holy Sun.

The Death Guard immediately opened fire, to which the Thousand Sons reacted with spheres of Warp-energy.

The battle was raging on when explosions began to shake the massive room. The reactor had started to destabilize. The Thousand Sons began to use their sorcery to try and stabilize it, to stop it from overheating. This allowed the Death Guard to gun some of them down.

But the reactor started to return to normal parameters.

Grulgor pulled out a remote control and pressed the button. The signal reached the small demolition charges his Astartes had planted on the cooling systems.

Ten seconds before the now-irreversible reactor meltdown, Grulgor smiled to the lead Thousand Son Terminator.

 _"_ _Only in death does duty end. It seems you have forgotten that, son of the Cyclops. My duty is complete."_

The explosion was visible from space, as if a massive star had erupted into existence upon Betalis III. One of the Grand Cruisers was vaporized along with the _Holy Sun_ by the explosion. The other, _Rage of Erudition_ , had moved away in time to escape the blast radius.

Khalophis was aghast. Such a prized Battleship lost…and dozens of his brothers dead in the explosion. Impossible...

He had to find the Eldar warrior _now_. Only through victory could such losses be justified to Magnus…

A Spireguard private came to him. "My Lord…"

"What is it?"

"One of our scouts found a massive network of caves. There seems to be some sort of Eldar automated defenses pinning them down…"

Khalophis' eyes alighted again with hope. "Irillyth. I have you now."

He then mind-probed the young private through an ancient Prosperine procedure of neural invasion. Ignoring the fact that this would lobotomize the young man (the reason for which the procedure had been abandoned millennia before by the people of Prospero) he gathered the location of the scout team.

"Ja'ejf, Whuoq, Yalwo…."

Through those arcane words, crafted by a long-dead xeno empire to summon daemons, he created a Warp vortex, which brought him to the desired location, leaving behind the unfortunate soldier, reduced to a vegetable, unable to even move. A Death Guard Astartes would, after the battle, take pity on him, despite him being on the opposite side, and grant him the Emperor's Peace.

He effortlessly disposed of the Eldar automated defenses and reached a cavern, inside which was a sprawling city.

He then noticed some creatures moving through the ruins. Using his armor's senses, he magnified the image and realized who they were. Mortarion and his Guard, along with the Eldar…Time was running out.

He then began mouthing a new teleportation incantation…

-In the caves-

The caves were massive, kilometres of tunnels digging deep into the crust of the planet. In the largest cavern there was a ruined city, the capital of what would have become the Ar-Izader Empire, had Mymeara not destroyed it while it was still in its infancy, confined to its home region of space.

Ruined ziggurats made up the landscape, with scorch marks clearly attributable to Eldar weaponry were present on all buildings, which were in various states of decay. And scattered all over, the glint of the Spirit Stones of the ancient Mymearan war-host.

While the Spiritseers sought to recover them, protected by the Wraithguard, the Death Guard and the Eldar Aspect Warriors marched towards the main temple, where Irillyth's body had been located.

Mortarion noticed, however, a shimmering Warp-vortex. From it emerged several groups of Thousand Sons. Time was running out.

"RUN!"

Mortarion began running, and the Death Guard Astartes following him began to do so as well. The Eldar followed suit, running ahead of the Human forces due to their superior speed. The Thousand Sons began using foul teleportation magicks, which the Warlocks attempted to counter by redirecting the Astartes in transit. Some would end up teleporting inside the bedrock, where they would be crushed. Others would end up back on the surface, forced to travel down anew.

The majority, however, shielded by Khalophis' mighty aura of sorcerous power, reached the Main Temple.

The Battle of the Ar-Izader Temple was a fight worthy of legends. Death Guard Astartes and Eldar fighting side by side, with bolter shots and Shurikens flying against bolts of Warp-matter. Upon the stairs, inside the hallowed rooms that had seen xenos sacrifice their own to appeal to entities they called gods, but in actuality were far lesser creatures than the Four, mere daemons created by their psychic devotion which had dissolved, starved of power, when the last of the alien race died.

Khalophis summoned a group of Castellax-Achea Battle-Automata, but the Death Guard shred them apart. Legends were born in that Temple under the earth. Like Battle-Brother Caetor Aquiyus, of Barbarus, who managed to keep fighting for three hours with ten unexploded Bolter shots in his body and to outlast even a Battle-Robot, falling only before Khalophis himself, who remotely set off the bolter shots with his psychic powers. And Exarch Isekon of the Shadow Spectres, who killed a Thousand Sons Contemptor Pattern Dreadnought with a single shot to the armoured torso from kilometres of distance. And many more examples of heroism which are still remembered on thousands of worlds, both Human and Mymearan.

In the fury of the battle, the Deathshroud and the Scarab Occult began fighting each other. They were exact opposites: the Deathshroud wore uncoloured Ceramite armors, while the Scarab Occult wore finely painted red and white Cataphractii-Achea Pattern Terminator armours, the Sun of Prospero finely decorated with gold and small eight-pointed stars beneath. The Deathshroud fought using pure bolters and scythes to gain a reach over their enemies while seeking to endure anything that the enemy could throw at them, while the Scarab Occult used corrupted sorcery and Warp-tainted bolters which could sear the very soul of the target.

Mortarion found himself separated from the Deathshroud, and fought side by side with any Death Guard and Eldar who came nearby. He reached Irillyth's armor first and threw it to an Eldar Aspect Warrior nearby.

"Here is your warrior. Do what you …"

He did not finish the phrase, as the Aspect Warrior exploded in a deluge of Eldar blood. Khalophis laughed, and turned to Mortarion, while all around them, the battle for Irillyth's armor was renewed.

"You fool. Why do you deny the glory of Chaos? Can't you see the limitless power, up there, ours for the taking?"

"That power only corrupts. It will turn Mankind into monsters like the Ultramarines above us."

"Monsters? You call _us_ monsters…you are like those who in the ancient Middle Ages of Terra burned people at the stake for "heresy" and for thinking differently from the prescribed norms. You and the False Emperor want to keep the human species chained, castrating would leave it unable to glimpse the full scope of what it could achieve! Mankind will be destroyed if you have your way!"

"Better that than becoming the pawn of false entities that call themselves Gods. I have seen the powers you call upon…and I believe I was not too good enough at Nikaea. I should have not let Russ speak with his tales of maleficarum. I should have continued on and pressed for your Legion of monsters to be erased from history, like the Second and the Eleventh were!"

Khalophis lost all reason and mindlessly charged. Mortarion fired at him with the Lantern, knocking him back. In response, Khalophis charged a massive sphere of Warp energy and launched it straight at Mortarion, while loading it with death curses which he had learned at the feet of Mo'tira, an ancient daemon witch of the Eye of Terror, in exchange for the soul of another Astartes, a Blackshield, which he had captured in battle and ritually mutilated to offer to the timeless being as payment for the knowledge he was using.

Mortarion instinctively knew this attack was too powerful to endure, even for him. He grabbed the closest warrior to him and threw the two of them down to avoid the foul sphere of energy. As he went down, he saw that the one which he had saved along with himself was not an Astartes.

It was Farseer Asheraniel. In a second which lasted an eternity, he reflected on the supreme irony of the events.

 _Not one year ago, I would have killed her in a heartbeat, my hands around her throat to prevent her from saying any more sorcerous incantations. Now, I just saved her life from another Astartes…another human being, who has given himself over to foul Powers this Eldar fears more than even I do and that she would never dare invoke. What supreme irony…_

As he landed together with Asheraniel on the stone floor the Warmaster saw the dark sphere had missed them both and had hit instead a Death Guard Battle-Brother, which died in a horrible deluge of screams and pleas for death, as his flesh and Mark II armor melted and flowed together like wax until the valiant warrior became nothing more than a red smear of blood and melted ceramite upon the stone that made up the Temple.

The horrified Mortarion took two Phosphex grenades from his belt and threw them at the prone form of Khalophis. The gases harvested from the toxic atmosphere of Barbarus ignited upon the son of Magnus who began to burn in pain. He knew he would die here, in shame, his mission failed, remembered in shame by his Legion. He despaired…but that was not the end.

In his brain, a voice resonated. Contemporarily as his mortal eyes burned Khalophis could see with his aether-sight a bountiful garden, with plants and animals that were born, grew, aged, and died in fractions of seconds.

 _Khalophis. This is not the end. Your despair empowers me. But now…now is the time for rebirth. You can still be a part of the glorious endeavor to turn the Imperium of Man to rust and ruin, and allow it to be reborn in a new, glorious form… All I want is your soul. Is it such a hefty price for eternal freedom from death?_

Khalophis, in the throes of the burning death from Phosphex, endured seven seconds more of pain, then accepted the foul bargain.

He rose up, empowered. The Phosphex flames were extinguished instantly, despite such a thing being technically impossible due to the type of chemicals involved.

Before Mortarion and Asheraniel's horrified eyes, Khalophis began to mutate hideously.

His Terminator armour turned from scorched red and white to vomit yellow and green. It began to crack and show gaping holes, from where the skin of the warrior was visible. But it was not pink or crimson like the other Astartes of the Fifteenth Legion, it looked like it had rotten and decayed. Blisters and vescicles full of foul yellowish pus were present all over it, while a gaping hole in the abdomen part revealed that his entrails had been forced out by the hideous pact. From the holes leaked foul organic liquids, which corroded the stone of the Temple.

His face was revealed to be hideously deformed, with the veins visible, black blood flowing within, rancid with corruption.

Khalophis, now a Champion of Nurgle, laughed. "Now, Lord of Death, I shall show you the power you have foolishly denied!"

He grabbed a sword from a fallen Eldar warrior, mutating it into a rotting monstrosity, and charged.

Mortarion fired the Lantern…which did not even slow down Khalophis, his grotesquely swollen frame absorbing the blast easily.

The Plague Marine swung his blade and was blocked only by a rapid parry of _Silence_.

Mortarion responded through a sudden swipe of his scythe, which should have grievously wounded Khalophis, causing him to bleed to death, but the foul ichor closed the wound, and Khalophis hit him back with the mutated sword, causing a scratch which however began to weaken Mortarion, slowly but steadily, his immune system failing to respond. To Mortarion's horror, he felt the contagion affect him. _How can it._..

As he fell down, grimacing in pain due to the unconventional battle fought inside himself, he saw Khalophis upon him. In a jovial voice, he looked down at Mortarion. A sick smile adorned his rotting face. He rose his sword for the killing blow.

"Prepare, Lord of Death, for the Lord of All has chosen you—AH!"

A spear exited his throat, severing his head from the rest. Then Asheraniel sent a powerful psychic wave of energy into the spear, causing it to overload and explode, disintegrating Khalophis entirely, leaving no trace he had ever existed.

The Farseer rushed to Mortarion's side and deployed her medical abilities. Before becoming Farseer, Asheraniel had spent nearly fifty Terran years on the Path of the Healer, and still remembered how to remove such kinds of diseases from a body.

 _Luckily it is not the Great Plague. If I intervene now, this plague can be cured without any lasting effect… (Great Plague: translation of the Eldar name for the foul contagion known by the Imperium as Nurgle's Rot)_

The Deathshroud moved towards Asheraniel, thinking that she might try to betray and murder their Primarch in a moment of weakness, but they saw that the black ichor that tainted Mortarion's wound was being removed, sucked away from him. It was expelled from the Warmaster's body and coalesced into a black cloud which Farseer Oasavae easily banished back to the Warp, never to return.

Mortarion rose again, empowered and fully healed, just in time to witness their victory.

An Exarch of the Shadow Spectres donned Irillyth's armor, and in a bright flash of light, Irillyth, the Shade of Twilight, was reborn. The Mymearan Eldar and the Death Guard now were reinvigorated by their victory, and pressed the advantage.

The Thousand Sons used techno-sorcery to teleport back to their only remaining ship, the Grand Cruiser _Rage of Erudition_. The new commander of the 6th Fellowship, Menkaure, chose to open a Warp rift in the atmosphere to escape. This caused massive devastation on the eastern continent of Betalis III, with a vast swathe of the land scorched and ruined.

The Slaaneshi Ultramarines, sensing Khalophis had failed, chose to retreat back to Ultramar and to their lairs of depravation.

Mortarion ordered his vox officer to send word to Kyr Vhalen.

The message was simple. "We won."

The Mymearans, led by Irillyth, returned to their Craftworld. Celebrations for the rebirth of the ancient hero and the return of the souls of the warriors that accompanied him lasted an entire Terran month. The tales of the great deeds which had shaped the course of the battle were written down in great epic tales, and were retold for millennia. The Craftworld suffered also a political upheaval. Farseer Asheraniel was named the new High Farseer of Mymeara, replacing Bel-Karanvel, who retreated into seclusion in the periphery of Mymeara to find out why his sight had failed him in such a critical moment for the Craftworld.

She decreed that Mymeara was at war, and that it would stand side by side with the Imperium of Man, not forgetting that she owed the Warmaster her life.

The Death Guard returned to Terra. The Warmaster was visited by the Emperor personally, who broke off from the Golden Throne for ten minutes to see that his son had not been tainted by Chaos. Then there were massive celebrations for the glorious victory, which had seen entire regiments of the Spireguard, hundreds of the Fifteenth Legion and an Abyss-class Super Battleship destroyed. The Eldar's critical role in the victory was conveniently _forgotten_ by the Remembrancers, a fact which the Warmaster understood, yet angered him to no end.

Because he knew, deep down, that he would have died on that frozen world or worse, had it not been for that Eldar Farseer ….

He corrected himself.

Had it not been for Asheraniel, _the Imperium_ would have died and Magnus would be the new Emperor, leading Mankind down a path of corruption and damnation.

It was a truth he would carry with himself for the rest of his life.

* * *

ORDO MALLEUS FILE: Khalophis, the Lord of the Plague Titans.

When Farseer Asheraniel of Mymeara destroyed Khalophis, Captain of the Thousand Sons, through the overloading of her Singing Spear, to save Warmaster Mortarion's life, it was believed that the foul Traitor was destroyed forever. However, it was not so.

According to the seers of the Inquisition, the foul son of the Arch-Traitor was resurrected by Nurgle as one of his Daemon Princes, giving him rule over a Daemon World in the Eye of Terror. Ever since, Khalophis has been a bane upon the Materium, with every one of his appearances marked by epidemics, death and despair.

In 852.M33, he led the Vermidast War. The far-flung system, located close to the Ghoul Stars fell to the forces of Nurgle in a few days. The Daemon Prince proceeded to create a Plague Kingdom which was soon pulled over into the Immaterium, allowing Khalophis to use it to create a vast Plague-Automata and Plague Titans army which would cause great pain to the Imperium in the following millennia.

In 424.M40, the Daemon Prince was summoned by a Khorchin Plague Cult, which had remained hidden ever since the Purification, on the moon of Vitrum VI. Leading an uprising, he pronounced a foul enchantment upon the gas giant of the system, which became a sphere of noxious gases which caused foul bacterias to multiply and spread to the five neighboring planets. Billions died, becoming foul biomass recycled in the Plague Automata, or chose to turn to Nurgle for an end to their pain. Even the Cardinal of the system, Cleon von Heppel, succumbed, and became a Chaos Champion of Nurgle. Khalophis used the newly-bred army of the system to launch foul offensives against the Imperium until he was banished once more by the Grey Knights.

He is known as the leader of a warband, named the Tainted, which is made out of Legionnaires who pledged themselves to Nurgle. Interestingly, the large majority is made of Astartes who belonged to other Legions than the World Eaters, with many of them coming-to our eternal dread-from Loyalist Legions.

To this day, he is still trying to avenge his only defeat: the Battle of Betalis III, by destroying Mymeara. To do this, he has secured pacts with many Greater Daemons of Slaanesh, and has even bargained with Roboute Guilliman himself on his Daemon World, for support.

This casts a long shadow upon the fate of Mymeara, but the Imperium will stand beside one of the few true allies the Imperium ever had.

For its actions during the Heresy, Mymeara deserves nothing less.

-Inquisitor-Lord Xi Laising of the Lunar Conclave.

END FILE.

* * *

ORDO MALLEUS FILE: Abyss 04. The _Holy Sun_.

An Abyss-class Super Battleship, it was originally built by the Magi of Govis Major for the Word Bearers. To do so, they strip-mined an entire Industrial World of their home system, creating a massive 20-kilometer deep chasm inside the crust of the planet to house the vessel, hidden away from prying eyes. The Ancalimon Massacre caught the ship as it was 87% completed. Necessity of war had forced its taking over and completion for the Thousand Sons Legion, who had kept the name originally assigned to it by the Seventeenth Legion, to honor their friends and its intended wielders. The still empty sections were replaced by massive adamantium plates, giving the ship superior endurance in battle. It then became the flagship of Khalophis, Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult, until its loss at Betalis III.

Mightier than even the Gloriana class Battleships, the Abyss-class Super Battleships were matched only by the Phalanx and a few other ships. Capable of unleashing mind-shattering level of destruction and annihilation, they were first designed by Kelbor-Hal, who designed and built the prototype, the _Furious Abyss_ , in the asteroid shipyard of Thule, for Magnus the Red himself. Its design was then adopted by many other Forge Worlds in service to the Traitors, who proceeded to build many others, each and every one with slight modifications to the original design. They carried prototype Plasma Lances, thousands of attack crafts and could be retrofitted to carry entire army corps.

It is still unknown how many Abyss-class Super Battleships are in existence, or how many were constructed during and after the Heresy. The Inquisition estimated a minimum of 18 and a maximum of 30, with many more possibly built after the Traitors' escape into the Eye of Terror and the construction of the Hell-Forges, which are not encumbered by the rules of space-time.

However, it is known that they are reserved as flagships for the greatest Chaos Lords, and that they are endlessly fought over in the Eye of Terror. Having such a ship is a great honor among the Lost and the Damned, but it creates much envy and greed amongst other Lords. Millennia-long feuds and wars have been known to be fought over a single Abyss-class Super Battleship.

Regardless, when such a ship appears in the Materium leading a Chaos Warfleet, the Imperium trembles.

END FILE.

* * *

-ORDO XENOS FILE: THE PACT OF BETHALMAE. -

After the victory at the Battle of Betalis III or Bethalmae in the Eldar language, the Warmaster declared the Mymearan Eldar "honorable allies of the Imperium of Man". This was met with some controversy with some of the Loyalist Primarchs and high officers of the Loyalist Army, but the demands of the Heresy soon forced them to reconsider their stance.

During the Great Purification, the now-First High Lord of Luna went to personally negotiate with High Farseer Asheraniel of Mymeara the Pact of Bethalmae, from the Eldar name of Betalis III, the planet upon which Astartes and Mymearan Eldar fought side by side. Some details took days of negotiation to define, but in the end, the Pact was born.

Mymeara's forces agreed to lend their strength to Mankind during the Purification, while the Legions would aid Mymeara and protect it in case of necessity. A spherical region of space centred around Betalis III was granted to the Mymearans, while Exodite Worlds in the region were left alone by the Imperium.

This was put to the test during a sudden offensive by Banzor Evido "The Man-flayer", Chaos Lord of Slaanesh, against Mymeara, in 200. M31. The Death Guard responded immediately, halting the monster who once called himself an Astartes in his tracks at the Battle of Gusandall VII, destroying his foully-mutated Carrier-Battleship, the _Ravisher_ and forcing his leaderless horde to retreat back to the Eye of Terror. The Pact was by now near-unbreakable.

The Shadow Spectres of Mymeara helped the Imperium turn the tide of many desperate battles over the Age of the Imperium. At the same time, disputes which would have seen battles between Mymeara and the Imperium were resolved diplomatically, preventing wasteful losses of Human and Eldar lives. An Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos, picked from the more pragmatic currents of the Ordo, is assigned to Mymeara at all times, selected by the Lunar Conclave itself.

Even when the Imperium was shattered in two during the Herakleopolitan Interregnum, the Pact of Bethalmae stood firm, with no side trying to attack Mymeara.

Only once did human forces attack Mymeara, and that was during the reign of the Black Ecclesiarch, Sebastian Thor. From his dark abode on Dimmamar, the foul monster sent a Frateris Templar fleet to destroy Mymeara.

This was his doom, as the Death Guard intercepted the fleet, and later proclaimed Thor "illegitimate and tainted by Chaos". This was the beginning of the end for the Black Ecclesiarch's reign, and later the foul presence behind him would be revealed to all.

The accord has provoked some negative reaction among the Eldar as well. Other Craftworlds have contacted Mymeara during the millennia, with varying reactions to the Pact, ranging from understanding to outright rejection.

The Pact has largely isolated Mymeara among the Craftworlds. Many Craftworlds reject the aid of the Mymearans or the Sky Raiders, the Corsair Warband bound to Mymeara who has also accepted the Pact, agreeing to limit their predations to non-Imperial worlds. Only those such as Il-Kaithe and Ulthwé still accept the Mymearans as true Eldars, who had to make desperate choices in order to survive in the unforgiving post-Fall galaxy.

The Biel-tan Eldar call the Mymearans "the Cursed" or the Gray Eldar, who have lowered themselves to an alliance with a far lower species than the Eldar.

This attitude had terrible consequences in 342.M40, when the forces of Craftworld Aulys'nel, a minor Craftworld allied with Biel-Tan and a strict believer in Eldar supremacy, opened fire upon Mymearan Eldar forces. This began the seven-hour long Finnarthorel Kin-strife and forced the Mymearans to abort their mission, which led to five Imperial worlds and Finnarthorel, a system of Exodite Worlds, being destroyed by WAAAGH! Bonekleava. The surviving Exodites were evacuated in hurry, and the system cleansed of the Orks by the full deployment of the Cursing Eye. Aulys'nel was condemned and isolated by the other Eldar, and in response the local Eldar allied with the Dark Eldar Kabal of the White Thorns, launching devastating raids that ended in tens of millions of human dead or worse, traded to the flesh-pits of Commorragh. The Aulys'Nel fleet even attacked Mymeara herself, but were repelled.

Thus the Imperium had no choice but to launch a war it would have rather avoided to protect its ally, and it fell to the Iron Hands to carry out the Purge of Aulys'nel.

Aulys'nel was finally located and destroyed in 500.M40, by the Tenth Legion Battleship _Ferrum._ Many Astartes had lost their lives in the conflict, Astartes that were sorely needed elsewhere, and the entire Agrellan system, an important Hive World close to the Damocles Gulf, was destroyed when the Dark Eldar unleashed an arcane weapon of the Aeldari Empire upon it. For this, the conflict has become known as the Lamentable War.

To counter criticism from their own people, the Mymearans simply note that in the ten thousand years the Pact has stood, Mymeara has grown from a small Craftworld to one of the largest in the galaxy that rivals Alaitoc and Biel-Tan in population numbers, and point out that it is one of the few Craftworlds where the population is steadily growing, instead of diminishing. Not once, in the last ten thousand years, did the Farseers of Mymeara see a more favorable future without the Pact in effect. And Mymearan Eldar know better than most that in the name of survival, pride is easily expendable.

Despite the Pact allowing Mymeara to sustain a large population of living warriors, the Mymearans still make heavy use of the Wraithguard, Wraithlords and Wraithseers in support of the Shadow Spectres, who still make up the large majority of Mymeara's Aspect Warriors. This happens for tradition and because their warriors believe that "death is no release from duty to Mymeara. It is only an obstacle on the true path of the Shade of Twilight". Their creed being shaped by Irillyth's teachings, they seek to embody the aspect of the Eternal Warrior, adding one more motive of distrust among other Eldar, who still frown upon the liberal usage of the Wraithguard on Mymeara as little more than necromancy.

END FILE.

* * *

ORDER OF BATTLE OF THE BATTLE OF BETALIS III (BETHALMAE) OFFICIAL IRON WARRIORS NAME:

SHIELD WORLD #373.

Loyalists: Death Guard: 50.000 Astartes, led by Warmaster Mortarion.

Iron Warriors: 7200 Astartes of the 77th Grand Battalion, led by Warsmith Kyr Vhalen "Shatterblade". Three regiments of Seleucid Thorakites (the 392nd, 393rd, 394th)

Eldar forces: All warriors of Craftworld Mymeara (totaling 140.000 Eldar). Entirety of Sky Raiders Corsair Warbands (totaling 32.000 Eldar) 200 ships from the Void Dragons (totaling 7.000 Eldar.)

Dozens of Eldar Titans

Starships: 70-ship strong Battlefleet Bethalmae.

Dozens of Eldar ships.

Traitors: Prospero Spireguard troops.

1 Abyss-class Super Battleship, Holy Sun. (early-mid battle)

29 Traitor vessels (belonging to the 582nd Expeditionary Fleet)

Hundreds of Traitor vessels (mid-late battle)

15000 Thousand Sons, led by Khalophis, Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult.

1 Titan Legion (Legio Lacrymae, full complement)

30000 Ultramarines (late battle, led by Tauro Nicodemus)

* * *

LOSSES: Loyalist-Eldar Alliance: Entirety of the 392nd Seleucids.

Thousands of Iron Warriors and Death Guard Astartes.

Several Eldar ships, including the _Kurnous' Chosen_.

Thousands of Eldar Guardians in the battle against the Ultramarines.

Traitors: The entirety of the 582nd Expeditionary Fleet

The _Holy Sun._

More than two thousand Fifteenth Legion Astartes, most killed in the Temple battle and in the destruction of the _Holy Sun_.

Legio Lacrymae: 50% complement loss.

Unknown Ultramarine losses.

* * *

AN:More than eight thousand words! I have done it!

Please review!


	19. Chapter 19: Pacts are struck

_"_ _Nurgle is patient. He waits for a long time, while his plots bear fruit…but one day, his patience will end, and he will collect what he wants". -Unknown Chaos savant of the Eye of Terror, from the Seventh Book of Despair(text inscribed upon the Index Librorum Damnatorum by order of the Ordo Malleus. Possession of a single phrase or word from a book on the Index warrants summary execution.)_

 _In his garden, as he turned his sight from his bubbling cauldron, in which a new plague was being created, Nurgle saw that the one who could have been his champion was cured of his plague by the Eldar Farseer. The son of the Crimson King had accepted his blessing and he had made him host to his most powerful plagues. He had even successfully infected Mortarion with one of his 777 best plagues. Yet, he had failed. He had lowered his guard and had allowed the Eldar to slay him from behind, foiling his plan._

 _Nurgle then looked at the soul of Khalophis, which had just reached his Garden, and poured a part of his own essence into it. Even that infinitesimal part was too much for the soul of the son of Magnus to endure, and he shattered, being reborn as one of his eternal Daemon Princes._

 _The Lord of All should have been angry with him for his failures. But anger was the province of the Lord of War. Instead, Nurgle laughed at this setback and thought that this would be the finest recompense for his accomplishments and his failure. He saw how much he would try to atone in the future for this one failure by spreading his gifts, and the sight pleased him._

 _Nurgle was not perturbed by failing to seize the Legion he desired. Because he embodied the ultimate truth._

 _Change was merely a setback on the unstoppable path to death and decay._

 _Because he knew that the destiny of all things was to eventually rot, decay and die, recycled to be reborn into a new glorious form. To resist it is natural, but eventually futile. While the other Gods had to labor and struggle to ensure their plans bore fruit, his victory was all but assured, for it was based upon inevitability. Mortarion would have made the perfect champion…but that could no longer be. No matter._

 _If the son of Barbarus would not be his champion, then another would. The overall destiny of the universe would always be the same._

 _He then turned his sight to the Warp, and the Horaka system…He sent a wave in the Warp, one which would delay his chosen replacement's arrival by a few days…more than enough for his fallback plan to be set into motion…_

* * *

 _"_ _First Company, target orbital refineries. Second, planetside areas. Devourers, with me."_

 _The Devourers, his Terminator-armored bodyguards, followed him wordlessly._

 _The local regiments, the Quldun Lancers, put up a good fight, using barricades to stall the progress of the Twelfth Legion, but were no match for the Astartes, born of Angron's gene-seed._

 _In a few hours, the refineries were in ruins, the leaders of the world slain, the slaves freed and added to the millions-strong Gladiator Army, formed of prisoners and slaves liberated from countless worlds…._

* * *

-Horaka system-

Metallius Dardashti, Prime Comptroller of Horaka VII, viewed again the pict-captures of the Battle of Quldun. He simulated the path of the 13th Expeditionary Fleet, after the report from Quldun Prime had arrived. The simulation ended as the previous 1.492.331 had.

Angron's fleet was heading straight for Horaka. He wanted his world cast down and destroyed for his "crimes against humanity." He expected it. The Traitors had Kelbor-Hal on their side, and he desired his removal above everything else. All this because he wanted to _think_ , instead of subscribing to dogma.

Dardashti, unlike many of his colleagues, who sought use the past only as a mine for long-lost technical wonders, had sought to learn from the past…and use it to build the future, but without depending exclusively on it. He had been an innovator, which was something anathema to the ruling hierarchy of Phaeton, his Forge World.

He had avoided a civil war on Phaeton (a war he knew he would have certainly lost) by accepting exile.

Using an Ark, he launched with his followers into space, seeking a worthy system to establish a Forge World in.

In 518.M29, he had found Horaka.

A nine-planet star system orbiting a white dwarf, it possessed many moons which could be mined for resources but most importantly, it possessed a very rare treasure.

Between Horaka VI and VII was located one of the largest asteroid belts ever recorded in the Milky Way Galaxy, which Dardashti had ascribed to a shattering of two planets whose orbits had collided in ancient times.

Most importantly, the system was as pristine as ever, in a near-natural state. _He had discovered it_. No artificial construct was found inside.

So he had chosen to settle it, naming it Horaka after Rueben Horaka, a young Tech-Priest who had followed his teachings and ended up dying in his place when a Traditionalist assassin tried to kill him with a prototype Digital Weapon.

He was a Mechanicus Magos, which followed logic and frowned upon emotion, but such things, such acts of devotion, could not be forgotten. Not even by a cogitator-enhanced mind.

After three centuries, Horaka VII had become a bustling Forge World, its Taghmata building up at ever-expanding rates.

Dardashti had then launched his expansion in the nearby systems. He conquered star system after star system, creating the Horakan Empire. At one point, he had even repelled an Ork invasion.

Unfortunately, things changed when his fleet reached the Imperium of Man. At first the war went well: the local forces of the Imperium were no match for his Taghmata.

Then…he had arrived.

Fulgrim, Lord of the Third Legion. He defeated him on a planet he had codenamed Chi-Nu-31, in a battle which he had personally coordinated. He had forced him to exhaust every stratagem ever conceived by his millennia-old mind and still prevail. Such an event had not happened in centuries.

Realizing he may not win a protracted conflict and impressed by Fulgrim's tactical acumen, he had proposed a meeting. The Phoenician was impressed in turn by the efficiency of the world his opponent had built. It was then that Dardashti proposed that his world become part of the Imperium as a semi-autonomous domain, with a direct link of loyalty to the Third Legion.

As Dardashti had put it : " _You do not really know someone…until you fight him. And you are the first to really gain my respect."_

Fulgrim accepted, and the Horakan forces assisted him in his next battles. Dardashti even developed new war-tactics which he would utilize against the Emperor's Children in simulated war-games, testing the Third Legion commanders' tactical and strategic acumen. His neural processors kept creating ever-newer war-machines for the Third Legion, and his forces had gained countless battle honours for Fulgrim and themselves.

He knew, however, that his innovative streak was not well-seen by Mars and Phaeton. On Mars, innovation was seen as anathema, a crime against the Omnissiah. So, when he received the news that in a system relatively close to Horaka, a new Forge World ( Beshic V) had been founded by an Ark sent from Mars, he knew the true reason. The "will to search more knowledge in the name of the Omnissiah" was nonsense. A religious explanation which might have fooled the Imperium, but could not fool him.

The Martians wanted a base close to his world, to use to quietly remove him from the board if the opportunity ever arose. So he had quietly increased the size of his Taghmata, struck pacts with Knight Houses and had developed secret tactical and strategic scenarios for war against Beshic V and Mars.

Then… Ancalimon happened. Beshic V launched itself upon him, hoping to catch Horaka by surprise, but he was ready. In two years he conquered the rival Forge World and learned of the Schism that had torn Mars apart. He then officially threw his world in the Loyalist camp.

Now he was faced by a new threat. With Kelbor-Hal bottled up on Mars, it was only logical the Traitors would send Angron, the Liberator of Nuceria, The Twelfth Primarch, to do the job.

He knew Angron had never liked him, and had fired on his forces even before the Heresy. All because he disagreed with how he built his Horakan Empire.

Dardashti shook his head. Only a fool could not realize the dark truth.

Humanity's progress was _built on the back of slaves_ , ever since its dawn on ancient Terra. No matter how one chose to view it, it simply _was_. Sometimes blatantly displayed, other times hidden away for fear of discovery or shame, sometimes even justified in the name of some clearly nonexistent all-powerful deity other than the Omnissiah.

All ancient wonders of Old Terra were built by slaves. Attempting to erase slavery was like attempting to erase humanity itself. It was simply impossible.

Dardashti had likewise used slaves harvested from the conquered worlds to build Horaka VII. He did not justify their condition with propaganda or with some sort of religious dogma, as other Forge Worlds did. The Omnissiah was too high and important to be used in such a shameful way.

They had lost. They had to serve his cause. All else, to him, was just self-delusion.

Angron wanted to destroy him?

Well…he would make sure he would not get away from the battle.

He knew his forces had no chance to defeat the Twelfth Legion in open battle, due to the Twelfth Legion's massive strength on the offensive and the massive superiority in space. So he had sought out…unconventional measures.

Two years before, he had traded with a Blackshield warband the bodies of some Twelfth Legion Astartes. He had analyzed the gene-seed contained within, and sought any potential weaknesses. After months of resequencing, genome amplification and lab tests upon live specimens, he had accumulated vast quantities of data on the Twelfth Legion's gene-seed.

Basing upon that data, he had created a new negative-sense RNA virus, which he believed would affect Twelfth Legion Astartes specifically. He had chosen that type of pathogen because of the inherent instability of the genome. Using RNA, the virus would mutate too fast for the Legion's Apothecaries to counter.

The virus would cause a deadly haemorrhagic fever in the Astartes. And potentially kill the Gladiator himself, changing the balance of the war.

To release the virus, he needed them to reach Horaka VII, but without making them think there was a trap set for them….Luckily, the Twelfth Legion had been delayed on the way...giving him enough time to finish all preparations.

-Aboard the _Freedom_ -

Angron's fleet exited the Warp near Horaka III. A sudden Warp current had knocked them slightly off-course, making them arrive seven days after schedule. No matter. That slaver Dardashti would fall all the same.

A squadron of Mechanicum ships, 10 between Cruisers and Escorts rushed the Twelfth Legion's ships. They were easily dispatched by the massive firepower brought by Angron's fleet, swatted away like a fly.

As they advanced towards their target, they were met by an insurmountable obstacle. Horaka's Asteroid Belt, which was called "The Rock Sphere".

Made out of millions of asteroids, the belt projected onto the Z-axis as well, making it impossible to avoid. Moreover, Dardashti had installed defensive stations in many asteroids. The only way to reach Horaka VII from its star was to pass through the belt.

"Send a message to the fleet. We are going through. Gunnery decks, prepare to destroy any asteroid that impedes our path."

* * *

-Chief Apothecary Mirtes Terix's report (copy recovered from a part of the Space Hulk _Monolith of Woe_ , formerly the World Eaters Battle Barge _Sword of Desh'ea._ Consult with due caution. -

Entry 01: I begin a report I never thought I would have to compile, such an event being impossible in my eyes. The Twelfth Legion has been defeated. The foul slaver of Horaka lured us into a trap in that asteroid belt. The asteroids possessed hundreds of hidden launch silos with EMP warhead-equipped torpedoes, shielded from detection through Legion-issue Auspexes. They disabled our Void Shields through sheer numbers. Then Dardashti unleashed upon us a legion of Automata which boarded our vessels and dispersed a pathogen aboard in aerosol form. No one was spared from its effects. Not even our beloved Primarch.

When he fell, his body wracked by the pathogen's effect, his Equerry, Kharn, ordered the retreat. An order which has never been given in the history of the World Eaters. Kharn would normally be punished. But no one now can find the courage to blame him. With Angron down, no one would have given a different order.

Now it is our time to fight. It is the time of the Apothecaries.

Entry 02: We took the decision to isolate the _Freedom_ and all other ships which were boarded by the foul machines. This to prevent the contagion from spreading to the remaining vessels. The cargo bays of the _Freedom_ have been converted into quarantine areas, however, since the pathogen seems to be airborne, we suspect it will not be very useful….

At the moment we count 23.000 Astartes sickened by the pathogen. Thousands more may be infected and still not showing any symptoms. For our sanity's sake, we have stopped compiling the number of mortals who have been infected. Last count was at 482.000…just on the Freedom.

Dardashti unleashed upon us something monstrous…We need to find out what it is…or the twelfth legion will be destroyed.

This is something no one wants to contemplate…

Entry 03: Apothecary Kargos has successfully isolated the pathogen, confirming our worst fears. It is an RNA virus, negative-polarity. These pathogens are the worst kind of pathogens imaginable for an Apothecary. Due to not possessing any kind of repair systems during replication, they keep making mistakes and thus have a mutation rate that far surpasses our capability to keep up. Moreover, it is airborne. The capability to survive in the air seems to have been artificially engineered into the virus, which possesses three genes for that capability.

The virus seems to attack the body by targeting the small capillaries. By destroying the cells which make up the walls, the pathogen causes massive blood loss and that is the most common cause of death.

Still, we need to try something.

Entry 04: Our attempts to inhibit the replication of the virus inside the cells only stabilized the patients for some hours…before the virus resumed its course. Somehow, the virus does not kill the patient, it is rather trying to reach a balance with the afflicted's organisms ...cough…, trying to create a coexistence. How many will have to die before such a balance is achieved is however unclear. Our estimates range from a low of 70.000 Astartes to a high of 120.000. This is not a way for a warrior to die.

Entry 05: I have become sick, the contagion has reached me. I expected it though. No matter how many precautions we could take, we are on a starship. The air is constantly recycled, and with it, the virus. How can it escape our atmospheric filters is unknown. Some have hypothesized a construction defect in our ships' filters. Others say…cough…that this pathogen was deliberately created to survive them, tested upon live specimens to achieve this very result. The capability of the virus to breach Power Armour's respiratory filters points to the latter.

We shall probably never know.

Word from the lower decks is that the mortals who survived have grouped themselves into cults, calling themselves "plague cults" and devotees of something they call Nurgle…cough-

(entry abruptly ending)

Entry 06: (unintelligible shouts and screams. Probably the Apothecary is in the acute stages of the disease…)

-Quarantine area 001-

Angron was prone, his skin full of blood he had sweated and expelled through his mouth in fits of coughing. The virus was slowly, but steadily, defeating his immune system…

In his delirium, he felt so much pain like he had never felt in his entire life…

 _"_ _Angron…Do not be afraid. This is a gift. Rejoice, for I have chosen you, to carry high my banner of rot…"_

 _"_ _Who are you?"_

 _"_ _I am peace. I am salvation."_

 _"_ _This ….you call this a gift? I call this a deathly curse!"_

 _"_ _That is because you were raised and trained to believe so. You lived your entire life under a blanket of lies. This…pain…is necessary, to remove that blanket and open your eyes to the truth."_

 _"_ _What truth?"_

 _"_ _Let me show you…"_

 _Angron saw the rise and the fall of empires that were long forgotten, the birth and death of stars that had existed for billions of years. He saw that disease and most importantly, death was the only constant in the universe._

 _"_ _All must rot, eventually. The maiden of the morning is the crone of the night, the mighty kingdom of today is the ruined monument of tomorrow. It is inevitable. It is an inescapable truth. A truth which they sought to hide from you. But one day, the truth comes…and it does not care whether you are ready or not to face it. If you are not ready, it will break you…Thus rejoice, because the truth has reached you now, and the lies have been swept away. Join your voice with mine, join the timeless chorus …and you shall have victory everlasting...for Decay does not know defeat. Only setbacks. Join me…and you shall never know hunger or pain. You will bring the same freedom I am offering you now to countless worlds, freeing them from the delusions and the mental chains shackling them. All you have to do...is give in."_

 _Angron, wracked with the pain induced by the viral assault upon his internal organs which were straining to endure the loss of blood caused by the breaking of the small capillaries, tried to resist using his Primarch-level strength, to deny Nurgle…but after seven more days of visions he gave in._

 _"I am not the master of endurance. Mortarion was...he perhaps could have endured this world of pain…but I am not him. I never was._

 _And now, my soul in exchange for the possibility to escape this unbearable pain…is a bargain."_

 _He fell from his bed and went to his knees, startling the Apothecaries._

 _"_ _I pledge myself to you…Grandfather…"_

 _In the Eye of Terror, the Lord of Corruption responded..._

Entry 07: We must rejoice. The last of the remaining vessels has accepted Nurgle. The gifted sons of the Grandfather shall now guide us through the Warp, to spread his plagues to others.

The World Eaters are dead.

The Lords of Decay are born from their dead corpse. For after death, there is always rebirth…

-END FILE DUE TO CORRUPTED RECORDING. FILE SEALED IN THE ORDO MALLEUS ARCHIVES BY ORDER OF THE WARMASTER. -

* * *

The Lords of Decay made their first incursion into realspace on 777. 010. M31, when they reemerged into realspace inside the territory of the Heiwaan Conglomerate, a breakaway human realm in Segmentum Tempestus, which had declared neutrality in the Heresy…

-Borders of the Heiwaan Conglomerate-

Captain Wai Zhang looked at the approaching ships with worry. The Conglomerate had declared its neutrality during this massive civil war that was gripping the entire Imperium. Why those ships had entered Conglomerate space? She sincerely hoped it was just a navigational error. It had happened a couple of times.

"Have you completed scans?"

"IFF signatures…Frak!"

"What?"

"It's the 13th Expeditionary Fleet. Angron is here."

"Open a vox-channel."

"Channel opened. You may speak, captain."

"This is Captain Wai Zhang of the Heiwaan Conglomerate. State your reason for entering our space."

A voice came through. It was not, however, that of a normal human. It was fatigued, odd…as of the one speaking was severely ill. At the same time, it carried a joyous undertone.

"Rejoice, for Nurgle has chosen you to be His Heralds!"

On 787.010.M31, all Astropathic communications from the Heiwaan Conglomerate ceased. Vox-signals were soon terminated as well.  
No further communication was established with the state until 013.M31, when thousands of the Lords of Decay emerged from it to launch their offensive towards Terra, leading an army made of billions of diseased monsters led by Astartes riddled with all possible kinds of plagues.

The entire region would be condemned to Exterminatus during the Great Purification by the Ordo Malleus. To this day, it is classified Perdita on all star charts. No ship that entered that region ever returned.

This was the first Plague Crusade of the Lords of Decay.

It would not be the last. Scattered ships would make even more assaults, bringing the plagues of Nurgle to many loyalist worlds, dealing more damage to the Loyalist war-effort and adding more and more devotees to the ranks of the Lords of Decay...

* * *

ORDO HISTORIA FILE: The Horakan Miracle.

After Metallius Dardashti's success in repelling the entirety of the World Eaters with very little casualties, the status of Horaka inside the Imperium rose exponentially. Hailed as a master strategist, Dardashti led the Mechanicum armies during the Purification, becoming the new Fabricator-General of the Mechanicum in 030.M31, after Lukas Chrom's death.

Horaka VII is now a Primus grade Forge World, close in production capability to Lucius and Xana II, possessing trade accords with thousands of human worlds. The Imperial Guard is regularly restocked with Horaka-pattern equipment and vehicles, which the Guard appreciates for their lethality, despite them being more difficult to repair. The Horakan Mechanicum has shown its battle prowess on countless occasions across the millennia, most recent of which is the Battle of Taros, in which the Mining World pacted to Horaka was reclaimed from the Tau. The Forge World has deployed several battlegroups near the Damocles Gulf, hoping to capture examples of Tau technology in order to study and potentially reverse-engineer them.

There is still a mystery lingering, though: for ten thousand years, a part of the Forge World's Taghmata is deployed to enforce a quarantine cordon around Horaka Prime. Inquiries on the reason for which the world is being constantly quarantined are met only with silence. What is more interesting is that, despite Horaka Prime lacking any sentient species, the quarantine cordon has never been lifted for ten thousand years. Not once. This even forced the Forge World to decline requests for help in more than one occasion.

The Ordo Hereticus believes that a dreadful secret is being kept there. A secret which might bring doom on Horaka, should it ever be revealed…Still, no one has come closer to the solution since Inquisitor Takado of the Ordo Hereticus disappeared mysteriously along with his ship and entire retinue while returning from Horaka, his entire vault of data on Horaka lost along with it.

Inquisitorial investigation pointed to an accident with the ship's propulsion system, with no evidence pointing to foul play or attack.

END FILE.

* * *

-Terra. Khangba Marwu Prison.-

The prisoner was shackled to the walls by iron chains. His armor had been stripped away, along with his ranks. He wore a prisoner coat, to signify his status.

He still did not understand why Fulgrim had punished him so. He had only desired to advance the Astartes, to give them an edge over the Traitors. And he had him punished for "daring to pollute the purity of the Emperor's work." The last straw came when he had dared to proclaim he desired to match the Emperor's prowess. So Fulgrim, angered by his hubris, had him sent here, among the defeated tyrants of Terra and the lowliest scum.

He admitted there had been some …issues…with the higher brain functions of the test subjects, but they were to be expected. After all, no one ever succeeded on the first try. Not even the Emperor.

Well…none of that mattered any longer. Now, there was only the wait. The wait…for the executioner.

A guard came to his cell. A Custodes. Not a good sign.

"Prisoner #310. Get up."

He did as he was told. He had learned early on in his stay here that one did not defy the guards. He had seen the consequences of that, after a prisoner, a tyrant who had been incarcerated here since the Unification Wars tried to escape…

"Leave your cell. And follow the two here."

He looked at the other two. He instantly recognized the insignias inscribed upon their Cataphractii armor. Deathshroud.

The two Terminators grabbed hold of his arms and took him away. He realized they were taking him out of the prison as they embarked him upon a dropship. An old Skylance.

The ancient dropship headed not towards the Imperial Palace. It instead headed in the opposite direction.

-Albia -

Mortarion finished reading the secret Alpha Legion reports on the Battle of Ramatis. A fleet of Blood Angels had attacked the world, destroying the local defense fleet, then had collapsed the Void Shields with sorcerous powers and had then unleashed an army…of pink and blue creatures made of warp-matter, who had slaughtered everything they could find. He asked himself how Sanguinius could have fallen so low, and take his sons with him into madness and damnation. He saw the new symbol beneath which the Ninth Legion now marched. A symbol that seemed always to change, yet was always the same...

A signal from his Deathshroud ended his speculations.

The door opened, revealing two Deathshroud, carrying a prisoner. An Astartes, he noted. Good. The one he had requested from the Vault had arrived.

The Deathshroud brought him to the center of the room, then released him. The Astartes fell on the floor. Mortarion nodded, and the Deathshroud silently moved back to their appointed position, no more than forty-nine steps away. The Astartes looked up and attempted to resist Mortarion's aura, but he failed and was force to look down. Mortarion took up a data-slate.

"Fabius Bile, former Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children Legion. You have been sentenced to death by your Primarch for your…unauthorized experiments."

"I was merely trying to improve our forces'fighting capabilities!"

"By turning Astartes into madmen?"

"They were just…prototypes. The finished version-"

"Enough! Fulgrim had warned me about your…personality. However, I have conferred with my brother and I have rescinded his decree…. provided you lend your services to the Loyalist cause for the rest of your life."

"What kind of services? You just told me that…"

"Will you accept my offer? I am warning you now. If you accept, you have no opportunity to withdraw. If you cross me…your name shall be subjected to Historical Revision, your deeds effaced or attributed to someone else… while you will be truly dead, forgotten by the galaxy as a whole."

Fabius Bile silently thought about his possibilities. He could accept…and live as a servant of Mortarion for the rest of his life? Or refuse…and what? Be shot or caged up in the Vault for the rest of his life?

A thought crossed his mind. Perhaps …in prison someone could contact the other side of the war….

Mortarion chuckled. "I can read your thoughts. You are thinking about the Traitors, if you could cut a better deal."

"I—I-"

"thought that Magnus was the only one capable of doing such things? Yes…that is a mistake many have made. Fulgrim would have killed you on the spot. Yet, to answer your doubts and to remove such...temptations..., I will ask you one question. Are you a psyker?"

"Lord, I …"

"Answer me. Are you a psyker? Yes or no?"

"No."

"Good. Then you cannot deal with the Traitors. According to the Arch-Traitor, _"Mankind must be guided by those whose evolution is most complete."_ Thus you, a non-psyker, would be condemned to be part of the underclass. A non-psyker with the blood of a Loyalist Primarch coursing through his veins…would not achieve better than a slave in the mad New Kingdom the Traitors seek to build…if you are not shot on sight. As I see it, you have very few options, Bile. So…what do you choose?"

Fabius Bile thought about it…and then, realized Mortarion was right. He really had no options. Here, in the Death Guard's fortress, he would be shot the second after he said "no". The Lord of Death had planned it well.

Swallowing his pride, he did the only thing he could do.

"I accept your offer…Warmaster."

"Good. Then tell me…what do you know about the Pariah Gene?"


	20. Chapter 20: Xana II

CHAPTER 18: The Xana Incursion

"A man behind the enemy is worth one thousand men in front of him"-Unknown.

Official time and date: REDACTED.

-Edge of the Xana System. -

Warmaster Mortarion's ship, the _Endurance_ , exited the Warp at the Mandeville Point of the Xana System.

This was not one of the normal expeditions of the Lord of Death. He had not come to Xana to conquer or annihilate it.

He had come….to negotiate. He knew it was almost ironical, for him. First the battle fought alongside the Eldar, now this. But the situation warranted it.

The Forge Worlds in the Segmentum Solar were all loyal and running at full capacity, but they could only keep a delicate stalemate between the Loyalists and the Traitors, who possessed Forge Worlds of their own, on the borders of Segmentum Solar.

The planets on the frontlines would come and go, like cities and hills in the ancient Great European War of 914-918.M2. Many systems would be freed and lost in the same Terran month, with immense casualties on both sides.

Emblematic of such a state of affairs is the Forge World Alernat III and its industrial facilities, which had the double misfortune of sitting exactly on the frontline between the Emperor's Children and the Word Bearers and of falling into civil war between Traitors and Loyalists. It had been conquered by the Traitors nine times, and nine times it had been reconquered by the Third Legion under Marius Vairosean, each time ending up more damaged than before. Word was coming that the Seventeenth Legion and the Alernat Mechanicum Traitors were raising another Skitarii army for the Tenth Conquest of Alernat III.

Warmaster Mortarion had long slated Alernat III for an Exterminatus action. Whatever potential the world possessed had probably been destroyed in the series of battles. It was only because of Fabricator-General Lukas Chrom's insistence that the Treaty of Mars required the Imperium to defend the Forge Worlds that the Loyalists kept fighting on the Alernat Pocket… and because this kept at least 15.000 Word Bearers tied there. 15.000 Legionaries the enemy badly required elsewhere.

His defense-based approach, supported by Perturabo and Vulkan, was allowing Segmentum Solar to fortify for an inevitable massed Traitor offensive, but was sitting ill with some aggressive Primarchs, like Ferrus Manus, who advocated an offensive against the Dark Angels domain in the north.

Yet, he had irrefutable proof of how such a campaign would end….

* * *

 _-Yostraenus VII-_

 _The Strymean Host had made a mistake…and now they would pay the price._

 _A coalition of Blackshields, 4000-Astartes-strong, under the command of the former Ultramarine Captain Atreus, who had rejected the Goddess that Guilliman had discovered in the ruins of Theminarae, was making its final stand on the nuclear-blasted plains of Yostraenus VII._

 _It was facing a numberless army of the Forge World M'Pandex and the Dark Angels, commanded by Merir Astelan, the Sibran Grand Master, the Butcher of Fraoliv II, the Conqueror of Agathon and countless other titles, bestowed upon him by the fearful populations he had conquered._

 _The Strymean Host had tried to retake Agathon and free its people after the Dark Angels had conquered the planet…but they had only succeeded in attracting the Sibran Grand Master's attention._

 _They had retreated to their fortress, built inside a mountain and prepared for the inevitable assault…which in reality never came._

 _Astelan had a great campaign in mind…and could not be distracted by the "Pitiful Raids" of a Blackshield warband, no matter how numerous it was._

 _So he had dispatched his trusted friend, Zahariel El'Zurias, to take care of the problem._

 _Zahariel ordered that a heavily damaged Cruiser be shot towards the planet. The ship crashed…and its Warp-Core destabilized, allowing a powerful army of daemons entry into the Materium, led by a powerful Keeper of Secrets. Its name was N'Kari, and it was hungering for the soul of the son of Guilliman who had dared to reject the Goddess his Father had bowed to._

 _The loyalist Astartes died within hours, torn apart by the daemonic armies born of the depravity of the Eldar race, spitting their defiance to the last._

* * *

Massive casualties for no real gain, and the Solar defenses crippled by the irreplaceable losses, open to the Traitor counterattack.

On the eastern front the situation was identical. Apart from the occasional Ultramarines and White Scars raids, the Prosperine Front was quiet. Not even the Alpha Legion knew why Magnus himself was not attacking. This made the situation even more troubling. According to Ferrus Manus, this was because Magnus was a coward Sorcerer …. but Mortarion knew better than to underestimate the Fifteenth Legion.

The Burning of Fenris proved the strength of the Fifteenth Legion. More than that, Magnus' diplomatic talents had secured strategic alliances with several human domains, first among which a non-Compliant realm called "the Auretian Technocracy", which had sworn itself to Magnus the Red, giving him a solid logistic base.

In his opinion, Magnus did not fear the Solar defenses. No, he was probably massing troops and increasing the size of his own Legion as much as he could, while whittling down his own allies' strength to absorbe the loyalist ammo... before commencing his own offensive. Coupled with the Lion's attack from the north, it would have made for a massive charge against Terra. One that no present defense could possibly hold back.

 _And so become the Crimson King, unchallenged by none, not even among his own allies...callous, but smart. He had to give him that. Why would a Traitor, in full possession of his mental faculties, trust other Traitors during a war for galactic domination?_

This made his mission here doubly important...if Bile could not complete in time what he had asked him to do, then defending Terra might prove impossible without Xana II's armies.

Xana II was a Primaris Grade Forge World on the very edge of the Galactic West. Discovered a few years before the Rangdan Xenocides, the advanced cyborgs and the robotic armies of the Forge World had played a significant role in those conflicts and beyond.

More than that, Xana could count upon not one, but _two_ Titan Legions, the Legio Kydianos and the Legio Vulturum, which, when assembled together, could rival the famed Triad Ferrum Morgulus of Mars in strength. Also it could call upon the Knight House Malinax, which was equipped with patterns of Knight which were extremely lethal and equally rare. Together, these formed the Triple-Tailed Scorpion, who had played a critical part in rescuing the Imperium from the Rangdan Cerabvores, the aliens who had even once attempted a final, all-out strike against Terra, and had been stopped, at a grave cost, at the star named Wolf 359.

But most importantly, the local Mechanicum had the rare capability to build and repair the Ordinatii.

Weapons of mass destruction based on lost technologies, they had been assembled into the famed Centurio Ordinatus by the Martian Mechanicum. Even one of those weapons was worth a demi-Legio of Titans.

The Centurio had split with the onset of the Heresy, with many weapons falling into Traitor hands or lost. Thousands of Loyalist lives had been destroyed by the Ordinatii…and thousands of Traitors died exactly in the same manner.

The number of Ordinatii was dwindling month after month, due to them being priority targets for destruction for both sides, and the Traitors could replace them by calling upon the Ruinous Powers or by having their fallen Techmarines build Warp-based WMDs and machines, which some Astartes had begun to call "Daemon Engines", due to the strange …sentience…. some of these abominations displayed. The enemies also could invoke the support of the very daemonic armies, which fought by their side as allies.

The Loyalists did not have the same luxury, or better, did not dare to invoke those powers. Those few that did soon joined the Traitor side, their sanity forever lost...or killed themselves in the throes of complete madness. Sure, the Death Guard possessed terrifying weapons, but most of those were world-destroying weapons recovered and reverse-engineered from xeno technologies the Loyalist Mechanicum hardly understood. They could not be expended on a tactical level.

 _And the Fourteenth Legion could not be everywhere at once_.

Thus he had chosen to go to Xana, which had earlier declared its neutrality in the conflict, defining it "an internal matter of the Imperium." The Triple-Tailed Scorpion had the capability to tip the balance of the war in one direction or the other….

And, if he could not convince Xana to join the Loyalists, he could at least deny the Traitors a massive asset…

Mortarion chuckled. The old him, the one who wanted to purify the galaxy from deviancy and tyranny was resurfacing...for a time. He increasingly felt him as a distant memory, a naive man so different from the one Malcador, Magnus and Fate had forced him to become...

-Xana II-

The Vodian Consistory met into the Synod Chamber, to discuss the upcoming meeting with Warmaster Mortarion.

The Consistory had vowed to stay out of the war, instead seeking to play both sides against the middle…until the arrival of Ahmuz Temekh.

The Emissary of Magnus the Red had offered them the rule of the entire Western Halo Zone, free of the strictures imposed by Terra and Mars. An empire to call their own, united with Magnus' New Kingdom in the pursuit of knowledge.

It was an offer they could not refuse…

They knew the Loyalists would try to entice them to join their side, but that Warmaster Mortarion himself would come…that was entirely unexpected.

This could throw their plan into disarray. The Consistory agreed, after a hour-long binharic debate, to delay the Warmaster until the Traitor fleet arrived, then they would turn upon Mortarion and deliver him as an offer to the New King of Mankind.

Thus they had dispatched their fleet to meet Mortarion's battlegroup, feign openness, and then stab them in the back when he least expected it.

Then alarm klaxons began to blare. Arch-Magos Arcanus Hoyal-Omicron turned towards the source of the alarm, consulting the System Auspex-Grid…

What he saw caused an overload of one tertiary processor, the Mechanicum equivalent of a shriek.

An 80-ship fleet had just exited the Warp above Xana-Tisiphone, the prison moon where the newly-completed Ordinatii had been stored prior to final field testing and delivery to the armies of the New Kingdom.

The fleet was led by a Gloriana-class Battleship…and bore the mark of the Hydra.

-Aboard the _Alpha_ -

Harrowmaster Kel Silonius examined the Auspex. As he had expected, the Vodian Consistory's fleet had rushed to meet Warmaster Mortarion's battlefleet, leaving Xana-Tisiphone without defenses. They would not have expected someone to strike directly at them.

 _Good. Exactly as he had predicted._

"Operation: Shadow Hand is a go. Begin drop pod assault."

From the Alpha Legion fleet departed hundreds of Drop Pods, which landed in the Xanite Defense Center located upon the moon orbiting the gas giant Xana Prime.

The local Skitarii guards, caught totally by surprise, did not put up any meaningful resistance. All fell, annihilated by the Hydra's power reinforced by countless hours of hypno-training. The Tisiphone Defense Grid was rebooted and under the control of the Ghost Legion.

The Vodian Consistory debated what to do, before sending one of the few ships left in Xana II's orbit-the Emperor-class Battleship _Argentia_ \- to mount a counteroffensive, and become a base for continual Attack Craft runs upon the moon.

The _Argentia_ launched its Attack Craft, ordering them to attack the Alpha Legion forces upon the moon. But the Alpha Legion expected such a move, and countered it accordingly...

-Attack squadron _Argentia-Beta_ (translated from Binharic)-

Beta-20 activated its vox signal.

"Beta 20-1, to Mothership. Alpha Legion squad sighted. Beginning Attack Pattern Epsilon 2.

"Copy."

The Bomber squadron dropped High-Explosive Bombs upon the Alpha Legion Predator, destroying it.

"Good. One down…"

Suddenly a red light flashed upon Beta-20-1's viewscreen. "Enemy fighters spotted."

"How many?"

"Three—four-five…-AAAH!"

"Beta 20-2 is destroyed! Ret-"

The Wrath Starfighters of the Alpha Legion, lying in ambush, unseen due to cloaking screens... _borrowed._..from the Raven Guard, destroyed the entire squadron, allowing the _Alpha_ a clear line of fire towards the _Argentia._

It took three minutes for the _Argentia_ to become a cloud of dust and debris, annihilated by the broadside of a Gloriana-class Battleship.

-Aboard the _Endurance_ -

Mortarion was astonished. Why the Alpha Legion had attacked the Xanites? This could -and most probably had-derailed the negotiations, and put Xana II firmly in the Traitors' camp!

The confirmation of that came when the Xanite Warfleet opened fire on his fleet.

 _Well, they want a battle? I will give them one they will never forget._

The _Endurance_ responded in kind, attacking the Xanite war-fleet, keeping it in place, unable to respond to the distress calls sent from Xana. Mortarion's fleet was strong, capable of matching the Xanite fleet 1-on-1 and more than enough capable to force it to remain in place.

Thus the Alpha Legion were able to reach the Ordinatii storage room unhindered.

"Secondary Targets secured."

Kel Silonius looked at the chronometers. _Exactly on time._

"Good. Initiate Phase 2."

From the Alpha Legion fleet dozens of dropships descended towards the moon, their objective: the Prisons.

The Prisons were the site where the Vodian Consistory held those it deemed "dangerous for the stability of the Forge World". They believed that execution was a "waste of potential useful material", so they left them there, awaiting their "repurposing".

Kel Silonius planned to show them how foolish such thinking was.

The troops garrisoned inside the Prisons were well-made cybernetically augmented humans, but were designed to _keep prisoners inside from escaping_.

Defeating _an assault from the outside_ was another matter entirely.

With Astartes leading the way, it would be very difficult.

With the Alpha Legion, the Ghost Legion, among the attackers, supported by a fleet led by one of the great battleships of the Gloriana-class, it proved _insanely difficult._

As the troops were gunned down mercilessly by the Alpha Legion Astartes, the cells were opened, and the prisoners within armed themselves with looted weapons and helped the Alpha Legion.

The Vodian Consistory activated the Emergency Measure Alpha.

Meaning an entire squadron of Krios Main Battle Tanks powered up and rushed inside the Prisons, firing at will. In the closed environment, they would pin down the Legionaries, stalling their invasion forces.

However, the Twentieth Legion did not want to conquer Xana. Their Primary Objective was another.

There was a prisoner inside that the Alpha Legion required. An extremely valuable prisoner the Consistory had kept there for years. Securing him could change the entire war…

-Main Temple of the Consistory, Xana II-

Emergency Measure Alpha was not stopping the Twentieth Legion. The Astartes were securing more and more of the Prisons with each passing minute. The Consistory had realized what they were trying to do.

They wanted to free the Unpredictable Variable, or as he called himself, Anacharis Scoria.

He had been a Magos Dominus of the Xanite Taghmata for decades, and had won scores of victories for the Imperium, securing hundreds of worlds into Compliance, and single-handedly annihilating the four-hundred world strong Eisturean Sovereignty, humbling the survivors and making them swear loyalty to Xana and the Imperium. With every victory, his legend had increased…as well as his ambition.

Assuming he desired to take control of Xana II, they had arranged a fake accident on his ship in which he was "killed". In actuality, they had stripped him of his rank and his implants and had incarcerated him in the darkest, deepest hole of the Prisons, hoping to extract from him more knowledge…and that he would starve to death in that prison. Yet, surprisingly, he had endured all that time.

Were he set free, he would cause a mass revolt among the Xanite military, who had been deceptively told that their leader had died, while instigating purges of those who had seen too much...or believed that something was wrong.

Thus they triggered Emergency Measure Delta, sending a battleship to bombard the Prisons to dust…but the ship would not comply, it being engaged in battle against the Death Guard fleet. The Alpha Legion fleet then closed in, trapping the Xanite war-fleet between them and the Fourteenth.

The Consistory began to calculate how best to respond to the rapidly deteriorating situation…when a vox-message reached them. The Legio Vulturum had rebelled, along with House Malinax.

This could only mean one thing. The Unpredictable Variable had been set free, and was now broadcasting his existence to the Xanite forces, who would undoubtedly be furious at the deception played upon them by the Consistory.

The Xanite war-fleet was shutting down all weapons, rejecting the authority of the "heretekal Consistory" and proclaiming themselves "loyal servants of Anacharis Scoria, True Leader of Xana."

Thus they came to the logical conclusion. They had lost. "Commence evacuation."

As one, they entered a lift, which brought them down, into the deepest forge on Xana II. There, the _Exodus_ awaited them.

Originally a standard Sword-class Frigate identical to millions of others, it was converted by the Vodian Consistory exactly for such an extreme situation. The ship carried an arcane device of xeno origin that allowed it to fully cloak, making for a rapid escape into the Warp. Its engines had been upgraded to a level which would have been deemed acceptable by the great Khans of the Fifth Legion.

The Consistory triggered the activation sequence. The ship launched into space and hiding from view using a wrecked Cruiser as a cover, entered the Warp. Their destination…New Vodia, located on the edge of intergalactic space.

There, they would rebuild…and one day, have their revenge.

* * *

 _When I was imprisoned, I thought I had failed. I thought that my cover identity had been compromised…in reality, I had played my part so well that the Consistory had imprisoned me thinking I was aiming to take control of their world by a military coup. As often happened in history, that turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. The armies of Xana had relied on me as their inspiration, and had never really accepted the inefficient, easily controllable leaders imposed upon them by the Consistory. All the Twentieth had to do was allow me to reveal my existence to them, thus reawakening their ancient loyalty protocols, which overrode any type of reconditioning…as well as what was left of their biological brains, who yearned to have me back._

 _The rest followed naturally. Also, possessing the emergency override codes for the House Malinax Throne Mechanicum systems helped to tilt the balance in my favor._

 _Now, I will give my forces…my world…the order to fight on the Loyalist side, as the hated Consistory was negotiating with the Traitors to eventually join them. And I shall not rest until Magnus the Red, who has led followers of the Omnissiah astray with promises of untold power, is defeated and executed._

 _So swears Anacharis Scoria, Magos Dominus, Tyrant of Xana, follower of the Omnissiah …_

 _…_ _son of Alpharius Omegon._

* * *

After the Xana Coup and the taking of power by Anacharis Scoria, Xana II entered the war on the Loyalist side.

The balance of war on the western front changed drastically, through the injection of new, fresh, forces. On countless planets, Warhosts bearing the emblem of the Triple-Tailed Scorpion landed, laying waste to the armies of the Traitors. Emblematic of this is the Razing of the Duchy of Vedelyag. The Traitor-aligned realm, spanning three solar systems and supported by a Chapter of Word Bearers, had resisted a Raven Guard task force for weeks, forcing the Astartes to withdraw in shame.

The warhosts of Xana II annihilated them within hours, their fleet swatting away the Traitor defense ships like flies. With hosts of battle-automata and Autonomous Flying Units obscuring the skies, the Vedelyag authorities submitted their unconditional surrender.

In a week, the entire southern part of the Colchisian Dominate, who had resisted the efforts of the Emperor's Children for years, was under siege and whittled down system by system by the unrelenting armies of Xana II, which were reinforced by the Atar-Median Taghmata, whose far-flung Forge World had finally ended their neutrality and entered the war on the Loyalist side after the Xana Coup.

The Seventeenth Legion put up a valiant fight, one that even Fulgrim himself admired, but in the end, it was useless.

The robotic armies of Xana, backed by arrays of powerful Ordinatii Sagittars (stockpiled by the deposed Consistory or taken from still-unfinished Titans) and the fearsome Ulators, were simply unstoppable. The Sarissa, a formation of dozens of Belicosa pattern Volcano Cannons mounted upon Ordinatii-class transporters could overwhelm any type of Void Shield through sheer firepower, while the arcane Sonic Destructors mounted upon the Ulators simply shattered any type of target through massive sonic power.

The Strategic Missile Units of the Xana II Taghmata could deploy extremely powerful road-based mobile ICBMs, called "Deathstalkers" (coincidentally, the name is identical to the Eldar name for a Super-Heavy Tank) loaded with 40 Multiple Independently Targetable Reentry Units, each one carrying a variable kind of warhead, mostly thermonuclear, but also EMP or Vortex Warhead.

Entire planets were scarred by a single battery of those missiles...But Xana also had access to much more horrifying weapons…weapons the world had no qualms about developing and, most importantly, deploying…

* * *

-Leinwand IV-

The 31st Leinwand Armored Battalion was arrayed behind the Void Shield generators of the capital city of their world, while technicians were trying to get the Super-heavy tanks back into fighting strength.

Colonel Gedwin could not understand what the frak had happened. One day, they were comfortably holding the line against the Third Legion, the next they were running back to their homeworld to resupply after having been mauled by an army of impossibly-advanced robots.

Well, this time the forces of Xana II will find a tough nut to crack.

On their return journey, the Leinwand Regiments found and captured a Star Galleon belonging to a Rogue Trader. They brought it back to their homeworld and disassembled it, reusing its weapons and Void Shields generator to reinforce their homeworld's Defense Grid.

Colonel Gedwin was certain he could force the Xanite fleet to withdraw in shame.

As the Xanite fleet arrived in orbit, they transmitted their standard hailing message.

"Enemies of the Triple-Tailed Scorpion. Deactivate your Shields and surrender. You will become subjects of the Xana II forge world. Resistance…is futile, but welcome."

Colonel Gedwin responded simply. "You want the planet? Come and take it, bolt-heads!"

"Your choice to resist is irrelevant to the Triple-Tailed Scorpion. You shall fall."

Soon, the Void Shields were subjected to the impacts from the Ordinatus Sagittars. Colonel Gedwin ordered the Defense Grid to respond. The artillery duel continued for an hour until the Xanite forces stopped firing.

A flight of bombers rose up into the sky, too high for the anti-air defenses to respond. From one of them, A large cylindrical package was dropped upon the capital city of Leinwand IV. It was a Xana-pattern Hypersonic Bomb. Using a prototype Unstable Tachyons emitter, it successfully bypassed the Void Shields as if they weren't there.

When the shockwave had cleared, all that remained of the city, and its defenders…was just dust. It was impossible to distinguish what was once ferrocrete, steel …or bodies. All was reduced to the same thin dust.

The world was repurposed by the Xanite authorities as a Penal World, with the area where once stood a bustling city, with millions of inhabitants, converted into a Promethium mine, where to send convicts from the entire breadth of the Imperium.

The area is still known as the Dust Plains or as Gedwin's Folly in the planetary maps.

* * *

-Villirier-

Once, the system was a paradise. Now, it was an hell…of pain and pleasure.

Lord Vared the Lacerator, of the Thirteenth Legion, had chosen it as the place to start his Pain Crusade to honor Slaanesh.

The experiments he was running using the slaves were…fascinating to behold.

The 11th Chapter of the Ultramarines, originally 25.000 Astartes strong, had been whittled down to 19.000. Two thousand he had to kill because they would not follow the True Goddess. The others died in battle against the Emperor's Children. Lorgar Aurelian was not a very good general, but he could inspire those under him to fight to the death. Even so, he had been sent by Guilliman to help him. And he had set himself to the task …very efficiently, as the millions of excoriated humans of Neirona could attest.

A group of Xanite ships had just entered the system. He would now destroy them, and teach them about Slaanesh's plans for them…

A vox-transmission reached them. Vared ordered to let it through, so that he could terrorize the Xanites and revel in their fear…

From it, came out nothing more than a meaningless stream of code…which caused an instant overload of the fusion reactor of the ship.

As Vared was blown out into space by the consequent decompression, he clearly saw a group of Alpha Legion ships. Vared cursed them….

…. then he saw nothing more, as he crashed against the Void Shields of a Twentieth Legion Strike Cruiser, disintegrating in the impact.

The system was reclaimed in just two hours, as the now-leaderless Ultramarines fled into the Warp to face Guilliman's wrath rather than die and the Villirier Militia chose to surrender in the face of the Twentieth Legion's victory.

Villirier was left to the Xanites _to repurpose._

Now called Vostok, it is a major production center. The Forge World Vostok Prime, founded using the hull of a damaged Xanite Galleass of War, has established productive facilities in the entire system. Imperial history books say Vostok Prime joined the Imperium alongside Xana II in the aftermath of the Coup.

The only inkling to its past is the uncommonly large asteroid belt which is located exactly between Vostok V and VII, which a Shipyard mines for raw materials to build Vostok-pattern starships for the Imperial Navy, which are well-regarded as durable, if unsophisticated, ships.

Official Xanite word is that the planet located there suffered a "catastrophic structural failure due to natural causes".

A keen eye, can however recognize among the thousands of asteroids, some sporting the tell-tale signs of a Two-Stage Cyclonic Torpedo Detonation….

* * *

One month after the Xana Coup, the world of Urdesh, a Secundus-grade Forge World who had backed the Word Bearers ever since the start of the Heresy, was blockaded, besieged and conquered by the Xanite Legio Vulturum, reinforced by a 2000-Astartes strong Twentieth Legion complement.

After two months where the Traitors suffered one defeat after another, the Word Bearers ordered their Legion to fall back to the northern part of the Colchisian Dominate. The Tenth Conquest of Alernat was aborted, all available forces pulled back to protect a ten-Sector spherical region around Colchis itself. This being the optimal region of space the Seventeenth could realistically hope to defend.

Artemia Majoris, the other main Forge World of the Dominate, sued for peace with the Loyalist authorities. The punishment was severe: all heretekal followers within the hierarchy of the Forge World were executed. Not even the Fabricator-General of Artemia Majoris, Drakken Kokubus, was spared from the axe of the executioner.

In addition, they had to turn over to Xana II their major forges, which would be occupied by the Xanite armies for two centuries. The minor forges were allowed to produce on their own only logistical items and small escort ships, up to Sword-class Frigate.

It was a steep price to pay. But, as the Emergency Triumvirate of Archimandrites of Artemia, who had launched the coup that deposed Kokubus said: _"Knowledge can be rediscovered. Forges can be rebuilt. Even trust can be regained. Existence cannot."_

The Xanite onslaught also allowed the Loyalist forces to regroup and launch a devastating offensive against the Traitor Mechanicum forces on Mars.

* * *

-Olympus Mons-

Kelbor-Hal was distressed. If he still had biological skin, it would be sweating profusely.

The reports from his emissaries had been confirmed.

The Triple-Tailed Scorpion had been unleashed. Xana II had joined the Loyalists.

His allies from Urdesh and Artemia Majoris had all been terminated. His forges were suffering damage from a renewed loyalist bombardment.

He estimated a 99.99% chance that they would land again on Mars, trying to retake it. And a 81.33 (3 periodical) % that Mars would fall.

Thus he did the logical thing to do. What every true machine, blessed by the True Fourfold Omnissiah, would do.

"Melgator…"

"Yes, Fabricator-General?"

"Signal our forces. We are evacuating Mars."

"My Lord…we hold 90% of the planet…"

"It will not mean anything if the Loyalists attack. They will bomb us to dust. With Xana on their side, the Martian knowledge can be seen as expendable. Our calculations predict we can and will return later, when Magnus the Red's forces arrive in Sol. We will return. But to remain on Mars now…it is illogical."

Melgator bowed to the infallible calculations of the Fabricator-General, whose components had been augmented with additions from the STCs donated by the Auretian Technocracy, who had sworn themselves to Magnus the Red before the Heresy, after a week-long diplomatic effort.

"Very well."

It would be known in history as the Evacuation of Mars. The Mechanicum ships, launched using rockets from subterranean shipyards, tried to escape the blockade lain by the Loyalist fleet, and successfully escaped, despite losing 35% of their strength in the evacuation, and another 3% in a space battle against the Saturnine Fleet.

Kelbor-Hal ordered the Dark Mechanicum fleet to head for Prospero. The tides of the Warp, favorable to them, rapidly delivered them to a planet named Feltuon Prime, located on the coreward border of the Prosperine Dominion, where Magnus the Red received the terrible news…

* * *

-Feltuon Prime-

On the surface of Feltuon Prime, the local humans were celebrating the crowning of the new king. The people had long suffered under the tyranny of King Razid III the Cruel, who reduced the people to poverty and misery to enrich himself and his family. He desired to expand his domain to encompass the entire Baiz-so Continent, which was to the local humans the limit of the world. They did not know any other land beyond the Great Ocean.

To do so, he raised armies to conquer all other Kingdoms in Baiz-so.

While he was away for war, fighting, a new people had come from the Great Ocean. A people of raiders, who sought to pillage and raid what their legends described as a land of shining gold…yet they were dismayed at finding a population just as destitute as they were.

So they chose to attack the local capital, and the local people opened the gates for him. Tired of straining under oppression, they believed the raiders could not be worse than King Razid. And they were right.

When the King returned, he found a city sacked. The raiders awaited him, knowing of the treasure he always carried with himself.

The Battle of Razidia was swift. The raiders had no fear of death, and cut a swathe through the demoralized royal army, while the King fled…only to be shot by an arrow and killed.

The local people crowned the leader of the raiders Thoraldr Breakshield, the new King, Thoraldr I. Celebrations for the end of the tyranny went on day and night.

Little did they know, that above them, in space, a being far more powerful than the one which they gave the crown had reawakened an ancient terror, and would pronounce their doom….

-In orbit-

The Magi of Zhao-Arkkad looked with pride at the weapon platforms of the Main Pyramid of the Black Star. The massive station, discovered orbiting this backwater world, possessed power beyond imagination, and with the ancient weapons they had grafted upon it, they had created the most powerful battle-station in the galaxy. Even the vaunted Phalanx of Rogal Dorn would be dwarfed by this behemoth. A fine gift to the New King of Mankind.

Magnus the Red looked with satisfaction at the weapon the Magi had found for him. The station was ready to fulfill its purpose, despite millennia of inactivity. It was as pristine as it was when it was forged.

He did not know who had created it and why, and it did not matter. All that mattered was that it would provide him with the upper hand in the conflict, after Khalophis' failure at Betalis III.

The Arch-Traitor turned to the Magi. "Is the Warp-cannon ready to fire?"

"Yes, sir. Commencing charging sequence."

The station opened like a flower, its petals being however arrows of xeno metal. When it fully opened, it formed the most unholy symbol of all. The symbol that struck terror in the hearts of countless civilizations and was the banner in the name of which the Imperium had been torn asunder and the Heresy was being waged by the Nine Enlightened Legions.

The Eight-Pointed Star of Chaos.

"My Lord, do you have a target in mind?"

"Yes, I do. Target Feltuon Prime."

"Yes, sir."

The Warp-cannon aimed at the verdant planet below and fired a single, massive beam of Warp-energy. From space, Magnus could see the beam create a new ecosystem, one vastly altered from the one which existed before. The entire planet was becoming a frozen wasteland. An Ice Age which should have taken centuries to begin was now happening in seconds. And it was not stopping there.

"Planetary temperature dropping rapidly. 200 K….130 K….111 K….70 K….58 K."

The planet had changed incredibly. Where oceans of water once stood, there were now vast masses of ice, circled by seas of liquid nitrogen. The rock that made up the continents had frozen solid, in some points shattering due to the sudden freezing process it had endured.

"Life signs?"

"None. All 78 million human beings below have been terminated. As well as all other native life-forms. The planet is completely dead."

"A perfect test. Well done, my honored servants. When we will reach Terra, the Tyrant-Emperor will die at the hands of this mighty weapon!"

The Magi soon resumed simulations. The world had been chosen due to its remoteness and because it was much larger than Terra. If it could cause such a disaster on a Super-Terra…Terra would be forced to surrender or die, frozen to death by the might of the New Kingdom.

His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the Martian forces. This could mean only one thing. Mars had fallen

With the fall of Mars, and the near-simultaneous collapse of the Colchisian Dominate, the Loyalists could gather new supplies, reorganize and go on the offensive.

The tide was turning against him. He had to strike now, lest the war drag out for years. "Ahzek…"

"Yes, Father?"

"We have to strike now. Alert your brothers. The time has come. The Fifteenth Legion must unleash its full power. Tell the Athanaeans to contact all my brothers."

"All of them?"

"All of them. We must attack Terra now. We must use everything we have to breach Segmentum Solar and reach Terra.

"I will relay your orders." He then left.

* * *

-ORDO MACHINUM FILE: The New Vodian Empire.

WARNING: This file details a threat declared Extremis Maxima. Consult with due caution, or you will be terminated…for your own soul's good.-

 _"Universal laws are for the lackeys of dead or false gods. They are utterly meaningless for those who follow Kalugura, the One, True, God." -Transmission intercepted from a New Vodian Empire Battleship during the Ebodold War._

We of the Ordo Machinum had assumed the Vodian Consistory, the deposed leaders of Xana II, had been annihilated in the chaos of the Cyclopean Heresy, another group of Traitors lost forever to history as they deserved.

It was not so.

In 592.M39, an Imperial Exploratory Group was lost in the Ebodold Sector, the last Imperial sector in the Northwestern corner of the galaxy before the limit of the Astronomican and the dangerous Halo Stars. All hands were lost.

Follow-up surveys conducted in 620.M39 discovered an entire region of space dominated by an human entity self-styling itself "the New Vodian Empire". It rejected offers to reenter the Imperium, firing against Imperial forces. According to the Interrogators and the Alpha Legion teams sent to investigate, it seems the New Vodian Empire has cast aside the Martian theology, rejecting the Omnissiah as a false god, but has not turned to the Ruinous Powers. They seemed to worship instead an unknown entity they called "Kalugura". The nature of this entity, even if it is real or not, is still unknown to the Ordo. It is known, however, that an entity by the same name is mentioned in Eldar legends as a "weapon of mass destruction, one of the most destructive among the Yngir."

In light of this new discovery, a series of unexplained events, chief among which is the loss of the entire 2232nd Expeditionary Fleet in the area while it was on the way to Terra in the last year of the Heresy, and a series of exploratory missions in the area never returning and the complete loss of contact with the nearby Shardani Sector in M37, could finally be explained by this long-thought lost remnant of the Cyclopean Heresy.

The Imperium prepared an offensive to be launched against this entity...but it preempted us.

In 630.M39, the Ebodold War was launched. The New Vodian Empire's armies, made out of humans augmented with "liquid metal" and wielding reality-warping weapons which distorted time itself, captured the entirety of the Ebodold Sector, converting thousands of people into new types of Servitors and running horrifying scientific experiments upon the billions-strong population of the Sector, seeking to create or perfect ever more dangerous Weapons of Mass Destruction in the name of Kalugura. The Xanite forces and the Raven Guard were forced to work together against this foul enemy, and in the successive fifteen years, managed to push back the New Vodian Empire to its pre-war borders and to reclaim the Ebodold Sector. The entire area which was declared Quarantined by writ of the Ordo Machinum, which was elevated to become fifth of the Ordo Majoris in the wake of the war and the contemporary loss of Samech, located on the opposite side of the galaxy in the Jericho Reach, to the forces of Uraniborg 1572 in 659.M39, one thousand years before the appearance of the Hadex Anomaly.

Access to the Ebodold Sector is strictly restricted, with the ranking Conclave having the last say on whoever enters the Quarantine Zone. Not even Space Marines have been exempted from this strict oversight, such is the Ordo's paranoia about the New Vodian Empire's corruptive capabilities. The local population, descended from the survivors of the War, has been moved to specially-selected Quarantine Worlds and is constantly monitored for Vodian sleeper mind-programs. A special detachment of the Raven Guard was dispatched there from Kiavahr, and eventually authorized to begin autonomous recruitment by the High Lords, becoming the Death Spectres Legion, or Legion XXII, permanently stationed in the Northwestern corner of the Imperium to watch over this new enemy and to provide a backup base for the forces deployed around the Eye of Terror and the northern Tamarian Gate.

This dedicated Legion Founding, unheard of since the Cyclopean Heresy, had direct approval from the Inquisitorial Conclave of Sol, which overrode the High Lords' objections. It is even rumored that a minor Eldar Craftworld, Arach-Qin, has helped the Imperial forces in some battles and has accepted to join the Pact of Bethalmae upon hearing of the kind of foe that the New Vodian Empire worships, but there is no definite proof of that.

At the same time, the nearby Calixis Sector, only recently founded after the Angevin Crusade, was subjected to stringent Ordo Machinum and Ordo Hereticus oversight, to ensure no smuggler managed to bring forbidden technology from the foul realm. This resulted in several families and cults of Heretics being discovered and eradicated from existence and history, with the Purge of Malfi being the most prominent. Many more escaped into other Sectors, where the eye of the Inquisition is unfortunately less present, less vigilant. Some escaped into the Koronus Expanse, braving the strong Navy presence or bribing susceptible officers who looked the other way.

None of those were ever heard of again within Imperial space. The Calixis Sector, which was becoming a haven of renegades and ever-conspiring nobles, was put under de facto direct Inquisitorial rule, with the Calixis Conclave seated on Malfi (after proper Historical Revision by the Ordo Historia personnel) becoming de facto Sector Governor. Such an arrangement was considered highly unorthodox by the Puritans, but the threat of the New Vodian Empire warranted such measures.

In Ebodold X's orbit was established a Watch Fortress of the Ordo Machinum, based around a rebuilt Ironside-class Starfort dating back to the time of the Heresy and rediscovered during the war.

Watch Fortress Ebodold, along with Watch Fortress Prefectia near the Damocles Gulf and Watch Fortress -REDACTED-near the Medusa system, is one of the main strongholds of the Ordo Machinum. The Xanite Tech-Priests stationed here conduct research upon this new enemy and designing new weapons and testing new, reverse engineered patterns of Great Crusade era-war-machines under strict Ordo oversight. At the same time, those individuals who deal in Vodian technology are brought here to be interrogated for knowledge. Any kind of knowledge.

Because the question is not _if_ the New Vodian Empire returns.

The question is _when_ it will return….and if the Imperium can triumph over it when it does.

-Inquisitor Lord Voross Salcedo, Ordo Machinum.

END FILE. DEATH TO THE THINKING MACHINES, FOR THEY ARE THE DEATH OF MAN.


End file.
